Nazario Bell: “We’ve been all over. California, San Diego, all the way up to San Francisco. She still
loves it here. I’ve been trying to get her to move, but she’s like ‘No, I like St. Louis.’”
Yvonne Bell: “There’s no place like home.”
Nazario aNd YvoNNe Bell, photographed at CitYgardeN oN NovemBer 4
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COVER
The Legend of
Allen Barklage
He was a daredevil, a savior and
a man who cheated death. But
it was the life he took that made
him famous
Written by

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In additon to a racial slur, the home was vandalized with a spray-painted swastika. | COURTESY OF JOSSALYN LARSON

Fire Followed
Racial Slur
Written by

DUSTIN STEINHOFF

J

ossalyn and John Larson
were driving by Gary Masten’s home in Crawford
County, located east of Rolla,
when they noticed the words
“N**** Fucker” were spray painted onto the side. Shocked by the
sight, they visited Masten’s home
with paint in hand, offering to
help cover up the racist remark.
But the epithet wasn’t all they
found: On the back of the house,
they discovered a badly drawn
swastika.
Working together, the three
were able to obscure the graffiti
but ran out of paint to completely
cover the hateful message. But
paint would soon be the least of
their worries — Masten’s house

was burned down two weeks later.
Masten, who is white, lived with
his son in the home off Highway
19, KSDK reports. Police arrived
on the morning of October 27 to
find the residence engulfed in
flames. Multiple area fire departments ended up responding, including those from Cuba, Owensville and Bourbon, according to
the Cuba Fire Protection District.
Masten told police that he and his
family were not home at the time
of the incident.
The Crawford County Sheriff’s
Office is in the middle of a preliminary investigation to find out
whether the house fire is connected to the property damage, it said
in a press release.
Masten downplayed the racist message in an interview with
KSDK last week, and seemed to rebuff the suggestion that there was
a connection between the bigoted
messages and the blaze. “It’s some
moron with a paint can. It’s got
nothing to do with who actually
lives here,” he said.
The afternoon after the fire took

place, the Larsons created a fundraiser through Facebook, labeling it “#NotInOurTown #StandUpAgainstHate.” As of press time,
the Larsons’ Facebook donations
reached $8,755, surpassing the
$5,000 goal.
The Larsons wrote on the fundraising page, “Fire Marshal and
Sheriffs are investigating. They
know where the fire began, and
suspect that the fire is likely connected to the vandalism. This may
also be connected to severe bullying at school. Local friends — talk
to your kids and neighbors. Somebody is going to brag about this.
Direct all leads to the Crawford
County Sheriff’s Department at
573-775-2125.”
The Larsons added that the
home’s resident was “a cherished
neighbor.” “He is a twenty-year
Army Airborne Vet following a patriarch that was a Navy Seal who
served at the Bay of Pigs,” they
wrote.
The Crawford County Sheriff’s
Office did not respond to several
messages seeking comment.
n

riverfronttimes.com

n October 5, a judge ruled that the
St. Louis County Police Department’s policy of making arrests
without warrants did not violate the constitutional rights of suspects. But one
month earlier, in September, the department quietly moved to change its internal
policies — and did away with the practice
when it comes to misdemeanor offenses.
“Officers shall only place a wanted on
a suspect for felony crimes,” the new policy reads. “Wanteds shall not be utilized
for ordinance violations or misdemeanor
crimes.”
The policy change was first reported
by Missouri Lawyers Weekly.
In the parlance of the legal justice system, a “wanted” functions similarly to a
warrant, with one crucial difference: An
officer can issue a “wanted” for a suspect’s arrest — and unlike a warrant, it
doesn’t require a judge’s approval.
The practice gave cops the power to
essentially make warrantless arrests,
and in St. Louis County, the practice
came under fire in 2016 with a federal
lawsuit from ArchCity Defenders. The lawsuit sought class-action status for anyone arrested on a wanted in the last five
years. The civil rights law firm estimated
the number was in the hundreds.
And that initial estimate proved to be
way off. The police eventually released
documents indicating the department
had issued wanteds for around 15,000
people from 2011 through 2016. Those
wanteds led to some 2,500 arrests.
Each arrest allowed the department
to detain a suspect, and the lawsuit contended that those people had suffered
the loss of liberty that usually comes with
an arrest, but without the protections
that come with a warrant that’s passed
through a judge’s office.
In Ferguson, the wanteds policy was
featured in a scathing 2015 report from
the U.S. Department of Justice, which labeled it an “end-run around the judicial
system.”
But in St. Louis County, U.S. District
Judge Henry Autrey granted summary
judgment to the police department in
response to ArchCity’s lawsuit, ruling
against the plaintiffs and their lawyers
on October 5.
Central to the judge’s ruling was his
Continued on pg PB

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

RIVERFRONT TIMES

9

Rural MO
Prosecutor’s
Meddling
Backfired
Written by

DANNY WICENTOWSKI

U

sually, when a prosecutor
decides to play hardball
with a drug suspect, that
suspect is in for a bad time.
But two years ago, in the
case against Sam Green, St. Francois County Prosecutor Jerrod Mahurin overplayed his hand — to
the point that Green’s sentence
was changed after the fact, and
jail time was taken away.
Green, a 23-year-old St. Louis
resident and college student,
faced misdemeanor charges for
marijuana possession, paraphernalia possession and speeding. He
pleaded guilty, and on February
17, 2016, he faced a judge for sentencing, court records show.
The judge handed Green a suspended sentence for the drug
charges — meaning Green’s conviction wouldn’t show up in background checks so long as he followed the rules during two years
of probation. The judge also ordered Green to pay $800 in fines
and spend ten days of shock time
in the county jail.
That’s where the matter could
have ended. But Green’s lawyer,
Renee Murphy, says Mahurin was
enraged by the sentence.
“After we left the courtroom,
while my client and his family
were still in the courthouse, Mr.
Mahurin stormed up to me,” Mur-

The St. Francois County prosecutor’s actions led to a weaker sentence. | DANNY WICENTOWSKI

Jerrod Mahurin. | FILE PHOTO

phy claimed in a lengthy post to a
private Facebook group last week.
(She both confirmed the story in a
phone interview with the RFT and
gave us permission to quote from
the post.)
Murphy continued: “[Mahurin]
was visibly infuriated. He told me

STREAK’S CORNER • by Bob Stretch

10

RIVERFRONT TIMES

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

riverfronttimes.com

that he wanted me to know that
he had called my client’s employer and told them about my client
pleading guilty to marijuana possession.”
Mahurin’s statement came as a
shock to Murphy. Her client had
a job lined up at a St. Louis brewery, and in court she had argued
that Green deserved a suspended
sentence in order to preserve the
opportunity for gainful employment. The judge had agreed. Mahurin apparently didn’t.
Murphy immediately filed a motion to the court, asking the judge
to reconsider the conditions of
Green’s probation. In a motion
dated the same day as the sentencing hearing, Murphy wrote,
“Since the state of Missouri may
have sufficiently punished the
defendant by interfering with his
employment, defendant respectfully requests that this court reconsider the special conditions
herein.”
The judge, Rob Fulton, accepted
the request. Green was sentenced

a second time, this time to a lighter sentence: no shock time, one
year of probation, $800 in fines.
That wasn’t the end of it. Mahurin again confronted Murphy
after the hearing.
In the Facebook post, Murphy
wrote that Mahurin “was furious.” In his tirade, she claims, he
told her that he’d been bluffing
about calling Green’s job.
“He told me that he hadn’t actually talked to the human resources people,” Murphy wrote, “but
that he intended to do so immediately. I was stunned again.” After
all, if Mahurin was to be believed,
his bluff had achieved precisely
the opposite effect of what he’d
desired: a lighter sentence.
Mahurin did not respond to
questions about the incident sent
by email last Thursday afternoon.
As for Green, the college student
eventually got the job at the brewery, but he’s now relocated outside of St. Louis. Murphy says that
her former client gave her permission to publicize the story; in
her post, she offered an apology
to her family and friends “for any
unpleasantness they will have to
face because I came forward.”
In July, Mahurin was the subject
of an RFT cover story detailing
allegations of unprofessional behavior, including claims that the
prosecutor had sexually harassed
members of his all-female clerical
staff. One former clerical worker
in his office, Lisa Davidson, who
initially spoke to RFT as an anonymous source, was fired from the
office one day after Mahurin sat
down with a reporter to address
the allegations.
Mahurin has denied harassing
anyone, and during an interview
in June, countered that he is the
victim of politically motivated attacks.
A Democrat, Mahurin was facing
Continued on pg 12

riverfronttimes.com

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

RIVERFRONT TIMES

11

LEGAL BACKFIRE
Continued from pg 10

the first contested election of his
tenure on Tuesday. His Republican
opponent was a former St. Louis
City assistant prosecutor, Melissa
Gilliam. (Election results were not
final as of press time Tuesday.)
But politics alone don’t explain
Mahurin’s conduct toward Green
— or what colleagues and lawyers
who’ve dealt with him say is hotheaded behavior. As detailed in
the RFT cover story, in 2017 Mahurin clashed with a Farmington
police officer who had commented on Facebook in response to a
news story about how Mahurin
had settled a domestic violence
case with a guilty plea that featured no jail time.
The officer, Ryan Miller, had
commented, “Good thing he didn’t
get caught with drugs or he would
spend his life in prison.” In response, Mahurin went to Miller’s
chief, saying that the officer “had
no credibility left” and that the
prosecutor’s office would no lon-

ger work with him. Miller eventually left law enforcement.
Mahurin’s office is also currently the subject of a state audit that
was launched in August following
“credible” allegations of financial
mismanagement.
In the days leading up to election day, Mahurin was campaigning hard. In an ad running in
the area’s local paper, the Daily
Journal, he touted his conviction
rate — 97 percent — and accused
his opponent Gilliam of “slinging
mud and making baseless accusations.” The ad also contends that
the former St. Louis prosecutor
was drawing support from outside St. Francois County.
“Which candidate has the
thoughts and concerns of St. Francois County and its values at heart,”
the ad reads, “and which has the
thoughts and values of St. Louis?”
Those comments echoed an earlier Facebook post. “Mark your
calendars for November 6th!” Mahurin wrote on October 30. “Keep
[St. Francois County] a safe and
great place to raise a family! Keep
this from turning into STL!”
n

finding that two officers listed as defendants hadn’t issued wanteds out of thin
air, as “the wanteds in question were
based on probable cause.”
Still, it’s important to note that the
officers who actually arrested those
plaintiffs didn’t know what that probable
cause was; they had simply run the suspects’ names through the system, seen
the wanted bulletin and then made the
arrest. And that was OK, the judge ruled.
“[A] wanted based on probable cause
that a subject committed some offense
is sufficient to support a warrantless ar-

12

RIVERFRONT TIMES

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

riverfronttimes.com

rest for that offense,” Autrey wrote, “even
though the wanted lacks a description of
the circumstances and facts supporting
probable cause.”
But even though St. Louis County prevailed in the lawsuit, department brass
had apparently already decided to update its wanteds policy. In a general order dated September 4, the department
specified that wanteds should only be
used for felony cases.
In a statement to Missouri Lawyers
Weekly, Police Sgt. Shawn McGuire said he
didn’t know whether the policy change was
connected to the lawsuit, or if the change
was already in the works before that.
For now, apparently, the wanteds system remains in place for felonies.
n

inety-two feet above the Mississippi,
the man on the bridge wept as he talked into an early-model portable phone.
It was just after 6 a.m., rush hour on
June 13, 1991. The man had already
swung his legs over the side. He wanted to jump.
But the phone call provided distraction for the two officers inching closer. Sauget Police Detective
Vito Parisi had offered the man
the phone and a suggestion that,
at the very least, he should talk to
his family before ending his life.
Minutes into the call, Parisi and a
second Illinois cop wrapped their
hands around the man’s arms and
shoulders.
The three struggled, pitting gravity and one man’s self-destruction
against the efforts of two cops.
It was a classic St. Louis summer day, humid and hot. The man
was dripping sweat, and Parisi
felt his grip coming loose. He remembers the next seconds seeming to stretch into minutes.
“He just slipped right through

our hands,” the detective recalls.
“There was nothing that we could
do, except look.” There was the
man, falling with unbelievable
slowness, impossibly distant, arms
flapping wildly. There was the
shape of a body hitting the water,
and the man disappeared into the
cloudy wash of the Mississippi.
And then there was the sound
of a helicopter. Parisi looked up
and saw the yellow-and-black machine diving out of the sky.
It was Allen Barklage.
A traffic reporter and pilot,
Barklage had broadcast the report
on the suicidal man that originally
roused Parisi into action. “There’s
a jumper on the bridge,” Barklage
told radio listeners. Sauget lies a
few minutes’ drive from the Pop-

Flying for KSDK, Allen Barklage’s “Yellow Jet Copter” (above left) was part of St. Louis’ landscape.

lar Street Bridge; the detective arrived just in time to try to stop the
man’s jump.
A different pilot might have continued with the traffic run, leaving the tragedy for the police and
the morgue to sort out. Barklage
was not that kind of pilot.
From
inside
the
cockpit,
Barklage could see the man fall.
He radioed back to his passengers,
who included an off-duty O’Fallon
cop, to get ready for a rescue.
Then Barklage tilted the helicopter toward the Mississippi.
The impact of the fall had broken the man’s rib and punctured
his eardrum, but he was alive, and
he was now fighting to stay that
way. While Barklage kept the helicopter in a hover, the O’Fallon cop
balanced himself on the landing
gear and hauled the man from the
river onto the skid’s metal surface.

riverfronttimes.com

Soaking and exhausted, the man
grasped the skid as the helicopter
ascended, but his arms gave out
a few moments later. He dropped
back into the water. Barklage
swung around for a second attempt, and this time, the man hung
on just long enough for Barklage to
drop him on a nearby barge.
Two TV stations had captured
the heroic save — though KSDK,
whose chopper Barklage had
flown, wasn’t one of them. In the
coming weeks, Barklage smiled
for award photos and commendations. He attended fundraisers with the station’s helicopter,
meet-and-greets and luncheons.
It wasn’t the first time he had
been called a hero. For more
than two decades, Allen Barklage
buzzed above St. Louis as traffic
reporter for KSDK as well as virtually every radio station in town.
He was the voice on both AM and
FM, a gearhead bantering to motorists about an overturned vehicle on the highway or a police
pursuit in East St. Louis.
Through it all, Barklage never
stopped chasing thrills, and emergencies seemed to chase him as
well. When he wasn’t reporting
traffic, he raced go-karts and happily flew under bridges for the
fun of it. There must be something
wrong with him, his wife would

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

Continued on pg 16

RIVERFRONT TIMES

15

ALWAYS ARRIVE
INTERESTING
six row barley
pure glacial spring water
make the vodka less ordinary

if they’d known how much he
enjoyed flying helicopters, they
would have paid him less.”
Barklage loved flying too much
to be scared by it. “I’ve been shot
down three times in Vietnam,”
he would tell new radio traffic
reporters. The boast was meant
to be reassuring — that he could
handle anything.

A

A former Vietnam combat pilot, Allen Barklage made his second career as a traffic reporter. | KSD PROMOTIONAL IMAGE

ALLEN BARKLAGE
Continued from pg 15

sometimes remark. Sometimes,
she was only half-joking.
Going by newspaper accounts
alone, Barklage’s helicopter skills
saved several lives, including
that jumper in June 1991. But it
was also a helicopter that killed
Barklage. He died twenty years
ago, days after a fatal malfunction
plummeted his helicopter into the
ground.
A second anniversary involving Barklage also takes place this
year. Forty years ago, Barklage
ended a hijacking by shooting
Barbara Oswald in the head 500
feet above the U.S. penitentiary in
Marion, Illinois. That was the day
he became a hero. That was the
flight that made him a legend.
The killing haunted him for the
rest of his life.

G

ene Hoffmeyer met
Barklage in the fourth
grade at St. Joseph
Catholic School in St.
Charles.
“He never worked at anything he
didn’t enjoy,” Hoffmeyer recalls.
The two spent their childhoods
tinkering on cars and motorcycles,
fishing and hunting rabbits in the
forests and farmland around St.
Charles County. They were briefly
separated when Barklage’s family

moved to Eureka, but the childhood friends reunited at McDonnell Aircraft Corporation, where
they both landed jobs after high
school. The year was 1966.
“Of course, that was when the
Vietnam War was getting hot
and heavy,” Hoffmeyer recalls.
“One day, Allen’s girlfriend called
me up and said, ‘Come over here
and talk him out of it, he’s talking
about joining the Army.’” It didn’t
quite work out that way. “I went
over to talk Allen out of it,” Hoffmeyer says, “and instead he talked me into it.”
The eldest of the three Barklage
boys, Larry, had joined the U.S.
Army intending to gain admission
to flight school. He advised his
younger brother to do the same,
to act before the draft forced him
into infantry combat. Why fight
in the trenches, Larry told his
younger brother, when you could
soar above them?
Allen Barklage chose the sky.
Hoffmeyer enlisted a month later.
Both were eighteen.
Barklage wound up in the 192nd
Assault Helicopter Company and
began his flying career behind
the controls of heavily armed
Huey gunships. The Viet Cong
shot Barklage shot down multiple
times over the next years; photos
show the young pilot in green military fatigues grinning near the
wreckage of some unfortunate
piece of Army property. Barklage

would later tell an interviewer
that he’d nearly died in Vietnam
when a piece of shrapnel blew
a hole into the cockpit. But he’d
given up his regular seat for that
flight; the man in it died.
Barklage was lucky, but he was
also very, very good at his job. After his first tour, the young combat
pilot came home for additional
training. He later told a reporter
that he was uncomfortable with
the version of America that greeted him, a place caught up in protest and anti-war fever. He wasn’t
ready to come home for good.
Hoffmeyer chose not to reenlist. Twenty-five percent of his
class at flight school, some 300
pilots, had died in that first tour.
For Hoffmeyer, beating the odds
once was more than enough. Not
so Barklage; he remained in the
Army until 1972.
After his discharge, Barklage
joined Hoffmeyer back in St.
Louis, where both took jobs as
commercial pilots, ferrying tourists and TV and radio reporters.
Barklage was undoubtedly overqualified, but he was also lucky
to find work. The war’s end had
saturated the market with helicopter pilots, says Larry Barklage,
who himself took a job with the
Federal Aviation Administration.
“He was a natural-born pilot,
instinctual. He put on a helicopter
like you’d put on your shirt every
day,” he says. “I used to joke that,

riverfronttimes.com

llen Barklage first became a media darling
in 1976, with a headline that read, “Tourist’s Copter Ride Ends in
the River.” The St. Louis Post-Dispatch reported that a family had
entrusted Barklage with giving a
helicopter ride to their daughters:
thirteen-year-old twins and their
six-year-old sister.
Seconds after takeoff, though,
the rear rotor jammed. Barklage
did the only thing he could do —
he turned off the engine, sending
the aircraft into a 40-foot plunge
and a jarring water-landing on its
twin pontoons.
The twins claimed they wanted
to finish the helicopter ride. Their
mother told the paper, “We’ve all
had enough excitement for one
day.”
Barklage, though, never seemed
to reach that point. Around that
time, he started flying around
with KMOX’s Don Miller. When
Miller took days off, Barklage
pulled double duty, doing both the
flying and the reporting.
The helicopter news business
was booming in St. Louis. By the
final years of the 1970s, even local
media stations had realized that
the incredible popularity of traffic reporting outweighed the cost.
At one point, KMOX reportedly
spent upwards of $100,000 a year
to keep Miller on (and in) the air.
Commercial
flights
kept
Barklage and Hoffmeyer busy,
too. At their employer, Fostaire
Helicopters, it was common
for the two pilots to swap jobs
throughout the day just to keep up
with the demand.
That’s what happened on May
24, 1978. Hoffmeyer was tied up
with a Post-Dispatch photographer who needed snapshots of
Six Flags, but he had another job
waiting at a floating heliport on
the St. Louis riverfront, a passenger who had chartered a 5:30 p.m.
flight for an aerial survey.
Running late, Hoffmeyer radioed Barklage, asking if he could
reschedule the charter flight or
ask the passenger to wait 30 minutes. But Barklage had just returned early from another job.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take this one,” he
told his friend.

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military herself, noticed a change
in her mother during their occasional visits.
“I remember seeing her one day,
and she was really dressed up,” MR
says. “She looked nice, makeup,
pantsuit from Saks. I said, ‘Where
are you going?’”
Her mother answered, “I’m going to visit Garrett.”

ALLEN BARKLAGE
Continued from pg 16

Hoffmeyer remembers telling
Barklage everything he knew
about the charter, which wasn’t
much: Some real estate agent
wanted to look at property. It
seemed unremarkable at the time.
“I didn’t even know her name,”
Hoffmeyer says.
Soon, the entire country would.

O

B

arbara Oswald joined
the U.S. Army in 1968,
one year after Barklage
entered flight school.
She was a single mother of five whose childhood began
in poverty and essentially ended
at age twelve when she was deposited in a Lutheran orphanage.
At seventeen, she became a sex
worker to pay the bills. Most people knew her as “Bobbie.”
“Prostitution, it wasn’t something she wanted to do,” says one
of Oswald’s daughters, speaking
about her mother for the first
time publicly. She changed her
name decades ago and asks to be
identified only by the initials MR.
Growing up, MR says her mother’s profession wasn’t a secret to
her.
“She actually ran a small brothel
in an apartment building in Maplewood,” she says. “She’d take me
to the White Castle, and she taught
me how to spot undercover cop
cars in the parking lot. ‘See that
one? It has a no whitewalls and no
hubcaps. That’s a police car.’”
In 1968, Barbara Oswald extricated herself from a marriage
with an ex-con, someone whom
MR, who was thirteen at the time,
remembers as manipulative and
verbally abusive to her mother.
Oswald found herself raising five
kids alone.
But she surprised her family by
joining the Army at 33, attending air-traffic school while the
kids went to live with relatives.
Oswald advanced quickly, and in
1973 she was transferred back to
St. Louis and became a recruiter.
After her death, Oswald’s past
would be unearthed by the national media. The New York Times
reported that she was known to
local reporters — she’d even tried
to sell her story of orphanhood
and prostitution to the St. Louis
Globe-Democrat to pay to bail out
her criminal husband.
“I don’t think Bobbie ever
thought she did anything wrong,”
one Globe-Democrat reporter remarked to the Times. “Her view of
things was that this was a jungle
and you had to be alert and willing to kill to survive in it.”

Barklage (second from left) and childhood friend Gene Hoffmeyer (second from right), with traffic
reporters Don Miller and Sue Mathias, both became pilots. | COURTESY OF GENE HOFFMEYER
The military seemed to provide
new opportunities. “It suited her
and she did really well,” MR recalls. “She made rank right away.”
But then Oswald fell off a motor-

was then doing time in an Illinois
prison. Its pages portrayed Trapnell as a devil-may-care rogue, a
romantic figure who married and
exploited multiple wives, robbed

Barklage later described his calculations for
survival: He considered the prison, its tall guard
towers and armed officers. He didn’t trust
Oswald or the three prisoners. He did trust the
guards to try to shoot down all of them.
cycle. Dealing with a serious back
injury, Oswald was placed on disability leave and with no certain
future. She moved her family to
Richmond Heights and enrolled
in a master’s program at Columbia College.
It was while researching a paper that she encountered the
book that would change her life
all over again. The Fox is Crazy
Too is a pulpy, all-too-smitten biography of a convicted hijacker
named Garrett Trapnell, who

a string of banks in Canada and
used the insanity defense to his
advantage. The paperback’s cover
proclaimed Trapnell “Skyjacker!
Supercon! Superlover!”
The author had included Trapnell’s mailing address, and Oswald sent him a note. MR says,
“She wrote what was probably
an innocent letter to Trapnell
with whatever questions she had.
That’s how it started. That’s how
he sucked her in.”
MR, then 23 years old and in the

riverfronttimes.com

n the morning of May
24, Barbara Oswald
visited Trapnell in prison in Marion. She’d
visited seven previous
times that month, four times with
at least one daughter in tow. Her
eighth visit would be her last.
Trapnell, skyjacker and supercon, was six years into a life sentence connected to a 1972 hijacking and ransom attempt — he’d
smuggled a pistol on a plane as
part of a caper that ended when
he was shot by an FBI agent. Still,
Oswald found the jailed Trapnell
just as captivating as the book had
promised, and in a few months
her feelings for the skyjacker
deepened to absolute loyalty.
He promised her a life together.
In Australia, he said, the laws
couldn’t touch them. He showed
her a photo of the house where
they’d live. She believed him.
After conferring with Trapnell,
she drove back to St. Louis that
day and packed a briefcase full of
guns.
Then, at 5:25 p.m., Oswald arrived at Fostaire Helicopters for
her flight with Barklage.
Earlier that week, she’d called in
a reservation under the pretense
that she was a real estate agent
looking at flooded property near
Cape Girardeau. In a statement
submitted to the coroner’s inquest,
Barklage described her demeanor
as friendly, even talkative.
But half an hour into the flight,
Oswald reached into the briefcase
and pulled out a pistol. She disconnected Barklage’s radio and
put the gun to his head. She told
him to fly east.
Cape Girardeau is 30 miles from
Marion, a short hop for a helicopter. Oswald informed Barklage
of the basics: They were picking
up three prisoners at the federal
penitentiary. In her pocket she
carried a hand-drawn map; it
showed a rough approximation
of the prison yard. She’d made an
‘X’ on the spot where she wanted
Barklage to land the craft.
Barklage later described his
calculations for survival: He considered the prison, its tall guard
towers and assuredly armed officers. He didn’t trust Oswald or the
three prisoners. He did trust the

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

Continued on pg 20

RIVERFRONT TIMES

19

In addition to a briefcase of guns, Oswald carried hand-drawn maps and instructions for
the prison escape. | NATIONAL ARCHIVES AT KANSAS CITY
One line of Barklage’s flight log for May 24, 1978, simply read, “Hijack.” | DANNY WICENTOWSKI

ALLEN BARKLAGE
Continued from pg 18

Barklage kept several photos in his scrapbook of his helicopter covered in Oswald’s blood.

Martin McNally and Garrett Trapnell were each arrested in 1972 after failed skyjacking
attempts. In prison, they became accomplices.

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NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

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guards to try to shoot down all of
them.
Barklage claimed he tried to
talk Oswald out of it, but, he said,
“it was to no avail.” So he started
his own scheme.
In Barklage’s statement, he
describes offering unprompted
advice. The side door was heavy
and difficult to open, he told her.
Opening it in the air, he said,
would save precious moments on
the ground.
She believed him, and leaned
forward to work the door’s handle. Barklage recounted: “While
she was trying to open the door,
she put the pistol that she had on
me in her left hand, I noticed her
finger was not on the trigger.”
All of Barklage’s combat experience had taken place in the
air, but it had generally involved
spraying ammunition at ground
troops. He’d never engaged an
enemy in close combat, let alone
disarmed one mid-air.
Still, he made his move, snatching the pistol from Oswald’s hand.
Of course, he also had to take his
hands off the controls. But now he
had the pistol.
“The heli was going down,”
Barklage wrote.
He turned back to the instruments to stabilize the suddenly
falling craft, and in the mirror
he saw Oswald rummaging in
her briefcase. She selected a .45.
“Well, I have another,” Barklage
heard her say.
Barklage turned back around,
raised the pistol and fired five
times, hitting Oswald twice in the
torso and once through the head.
A fourth bullet blew a hole in the
helicopter’s skin.
Barklage turned back once
again to regain control of the helicopter. In the mirror, he could
see Oswald slumped against the
chair, unmoving.

The helicopter landed gently near the prison administration building. Barklage sprinted
through the entrance and into
a communications room. He
stabbed at various buttons on the
intercom system, desperately trying to make a call when the first
group of guards found him.
Corrections officer Clyde Jones
was among that group.
“I met Mr. Barklage right at the
front steps,” Jones later reported
to his superiors. “He was running
and waving his arms, he was extremely excited to the point of being incoherent for a few minutes,
and I couldn’t make it out just
what he was trying to say.”
Barklage’s words came out in a
jumble: “Hijacked,” “I had to kill
her,” “She’s dead, I know she’s
dead.”
The guards took Barklage outside. The pilot was “in pretty bad
shape,” Jones wrote. The officer
tried to reassure him. “I kept telling him, maybe she’s not dead.”
Oswald’s blood had pooled
along the helicopter’s outer door,
and it dripped from the side,
thick and red, leaving drops like
melted candle wax on the landing gear. A medical assistant
was called, and the pilot and two
guards lifted Oswald’s limp form
and placed her on the grass of the
prison yard. She was pronounced
dead at 6:35 p.m.

T

o this day, MR says she
cannot reconcile her
mother’s descent into
Trapnell’s madness.
After all, Oswald had
worked as a prostitute for years
to support her family. She had left
that life behind, yet suddenly at
43 years old she lost herself in a
career sociopath — because of a
book? It was all too much.
“Mom was somebody who really
knew what was up, and had been
around the block a few times. To
see her fall underneath Trapnell’s
spell …” MR sighs. “I think she just

was tired of being alone.”
But to MR, the mysteries of her
mother’s mindset are less troubling than the actions of the man
who killed her.
“No one could figure out why he
had to shoot her in the head,” MR
says.
For a long time, MR says, the
Oswald children suspected a conspiracy behind Barklage’s actions.
The coincidence of a decorated
Vietnam combat pilot being hired
for their mother’s flight seemed
too outlandish to be real.
Facing new charges for kidnapping and air piracy, Trapnell encouraged the Oswalds’ paranoia.
In his arguments to the court,
Trapnell claimed Barklage was
actually in on the escape plan, alleging that the pilot had been paid
expressly to ferry the prisoners to
Perryville. They planned to leave
him handcuffed to his helicopter
to cover up the plot, Trapnell said.
The claim fell apart when
Barklage took the witness stand.
He pointed out that, if not for a
30-minute delay, it would have
been Gene Hoffmeyer flying Oswald, not him.
In MR’s mind, though, Barklage
still went too far. “I think he had
other options, and he didn’t take
them,” she says. “I’ll believe that
until I’m gone.”
One of Trapnell’s accomplices
doesn’t agree. Martin McNally,
74, an ex-con now living in St.
Louis, has described his mindset
in Marion as “pure escape mode.”
That included the willingness to
kill any guards who tried to stop
them. Trapnell, he says, was a
“phony monster” responsible for
enticing and exploiting Oswald —
and McNally, too, sees himself as a
monster in this story. He admits,
“We destroyed a family.”
Both convicted skyjackers and
residents of the same cell block,
McNally and Trapnell had spent
months in 1978 plotting their
escape. McNally read over Trapnell’s letters to Oswald, encouraging the web of lies that ultimately brought her to them in a
helicopter.
Today, when asked about bestpossible scenarios for that afternoon in 1978, McNally’s mind
conjures the escapees embarking
on an epic crime spree, skyjacking planes and robbing banks in
the South. “There’s no telling how
it would have gone, but we would
definitely have been America’s
most wanted,” he says.
And as for Barklage, McNally
bears no bitterness.
“Heavens no,” the old hijacker
says, “He was a hero. He did what
he had to do.”

Oswald, shown here in a newspaper photo, had
reinvented herself in the military.

T

he hijacking changed
Barklage’s
life.
For
months,
reporters
breathlessly followed
the action as the defendants prepared for trial, interviewing Trapnell through several
hunger strikes, describing his frivolous lawsuits and the announcement of his presidential campaign
conducted behind bars.
But while the headlines proclaimed Barklage a hero pilot, he
was a mess at home. His wife filed
for divorce.
His younger brother, Richard,
eventually set him up on a date
with a mutual friend, Chris. She
had secretly harbored a crush on
the pilot after meeting him several months before. The two quickly
bonded, and by 1979, Allen and
Chris were a couple.
She wasn’t intimidated by his
fame. “He didn’t act like a celebrity,” she says. (She remarried after
Barklage’s death and is now Chris
Berry.) For one thing, she says, he
dressed “like a hoosier.” She says
she threw away most of his clothes
after they got married in 1980.
“He was caring,” she recalls. “He
had a good heart, and Allen was
totally fearless. I don’t think there
was anything he was afraid of.”
In December 1979, the two were
on a date when Barklage got a message on his pager. It was the FBI.
About 100 miles away, in a
federal courthouse in Benton,
Illinois, a jury was listening to
Continued on pg 22

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21

ALLEN BARKLAGE
Continued from pg 21

a prosecutor’s final arguments
against Trapnell and his accomplice McNally. Trapnell had chosen to represent himself, a decision that put him at a distinct
disadvantage in legal expertise,
but did grant him one key privilege: the opportunity to interview
defense witnesses. Among them
was seventeen-year-old Robyn
Oswald.
Robyn was a Clayton High School
cheerleader who shared her mother’s wavy blonde hair and decisive
streak. Before her mother’s death,
Robyn had accompanied her on
visits to Trapnell, forming a bond
that grew stronger in grief. In
Robyn’s mind, they had become a
family. A “father figure,” as some
news reports put it.
Years later, Robyn would tell a
TV documentary crew that Trapnell was “a selfish human being.”
“Trapnell was really good at being creative,” she recounted to FBI:
The Untold Stories. “[He made] you
visualize things, like a big beautiful home, all the clothes a sixteenyear-old could want, the Jeep that I
wanted ... He said he’d wrap a big
red ribbon around the engine and
put a rose on the steering wheel as
my birthday present.”
It may have gone further than
even that. McNally claims that
Trapnell bragged about obtaining
topless photos of the teen. In a story
in the St. Louis Times, a purported
high school friend said, “Trapnell
attracted her more as a lover.”
Trapnell didn’t hesitate to use the
teen just as he’d used her mother.
On the morning Trapnell faced a
possible jury verdict on charges of
hijacking and kidnapping, Robyn
boarded a TWA flight in St. Louis.
Five minutes before landing in
Kansas City, she asked her neighbor to signal for a stewardess.
Beneath a shapeless cardigan
and scarf, Oswald revealed what
looked like three sticks of dynamite strapped to her body. She
demanded the release of Garrett
Trapnell.
The plane was diverted to Marion, where a standoff began that
would stretch into the night. The
teen had more than 80 hostages
under her control.
But the hijacking only shut
down court proceedings temporarily. The judge ordered the jury
sequestered and then sealed the
courtroom from reporters. Trapnell and McNally were moved to a

cell to wait out the crisis.
That’s when the FBI started
making calls. An agent tracked
down MR in Oregon, where she’d
retreated in the aftermath of her
mother’s death. The agent pressed
her: She was Robyn’s big sister.
Robyn would listen to her.
But MR turned the FBI down.
“I can’t do it. I’m done,” she told
the agent. The crisis of her mother’s death and her sister’s hijacking was too much to bear. “I just
couldn’t be involved and survive
myself.”
As for Barklage, when he got
paged at dinner with the news, he
assumed the girl wanted revenge.
Berry says he immediately offered
himself as a bargaining chip.
“Tell her, if she wants me, she
can let the people go and she can
have me,” Berry recalls him saying.
Robyn Oswald, however, demanded only the release of Trapnell. And unlike her mother, the
teen wasn’t armed. The sticks of dynamite were road flares, the “detonator” made from harmless items
purchased at a hardware store.
Over the next hours, dozens of
passengers managed to sneak off
the plane as Robyn repeatedly
called the FBI for updates on Trapnell. One hostage later described
her to a reporter a “calm, cool and
collected doll.” Another claimed
Robyn had quipped to a stewardess, “Aren’t I the nicest hijacker?”
But the hours wore on the
teen. At one point, a witness later
claimed Robyn announced that
if Trapnell was not on the plane
in half an hour, “All 72 people
[left on the plane] are going to be
blown from the face of the earth.”
The FBI called her bluff. Thirty
minutes came and went. Hostages
crept away in greater numbers.
Finally, after ten hours, Robyn Oswald surrendered to the FBI.
From there, she seemingly disappeared into the juvenile justice system. MR, who is estranged
from her siblings, believes Robyn
is currently living in St. Louis
along with her children and
grandchildren.
Berry says she watched her new
husband struggle to handle the
wave of coverage over the second
hijacking, the wall-to-wall stories
of a daughter’s anguish and vivid
retellings of Barklage’s actions inside the helicopter.
She recalls him complaining
about the reporters.
“He always begged the newspapers,” Berry says. “He’d say,
‘Please, if you can put it in your
story and let Robyn know, I did

Barklage kept these stills from a TV broadcast in his scrapbook. They show a suicidal man hanging
onto Barklage’s helicopter during a successful rescue. | ALLEN BARKLAGE PERSONAL EFFECTS
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not mean to kill her mom, I did
not want to kill her mom.’”
But the papers never printed
that. The ink had already dried on
the legend.

F

or the next twenty years,
St. Louis’ skies belonged
to Allen Barklage.
As many as 30 times
per day, commuters listened to his voice, and each year
at Christmas, he landed Santa in
Tilles Park. He’d show up at car
dealerships and charity events,
even grade schools, swooping a
Jet Ranger onto a field in front of
crowds of awestruck kids.
“He was well known everywhere, wherever radio reached
in the St. Louis area. And people
talked about him like they knew
him,” says Larry Barklage. For
years, he endured the ritual of
strangers invariably remarking

“more ornery than usual,” Ford
recalls the pilot pushing the helicopter to 100 mph flying north on
the Mississippi. In front of them
lay the old Chain of Rocks Bridge.
“If we don’t pull up we’re going
to go right under that bridge,” Ford
warned his colleague. Barklage
did not pull up.
Rumor holds that the pilot once
touched his helicopter’s skids to
the top of the Gateway Arch. To
this day, the tale remains unsubstantiated, but it seems entirely
plausible.
Barklage regularly abandoned
his traffic assignments at even
the barest hint of something more
interesting. One day in 1998, flying over the Mississippi, Barklage
got a call from a station employee
monitoring the police channel:
there was an empty boat drifting
in the middle of the river. Its two
passengers were now stranded in

When he wasn’t reporting traffic, Barklage raced
go-karts and happily flew under bridges for the
fun of it. There must be something wrong with
him, his wife would sometimes remark.
on his last name, “Oh, you’re Allen’s brother?”
“Allen loved that part of it,” Larry
says. “He loved the celebrity of it.”
The public seemed to love him
back. In the age before cable,
TV networks and radio stations
owned the media market. By the
early 1980s, competition between
the various outlets meant that as
many as five helicopters were trying to observe the same city traffic.
When his helicopter had an
open seat, Barklage was known
to indulge friends on a trip he
called the River Run. Traffic reporter and on-air personality Paul
Ford, who goes by “Captain Mac”
on 92.3 (WIL-FM), remembers
Barklage had a different name for
it: the Vietnam Flashback Tour.
According to Ford, Barklage
would push the engine to its max,
roaring down the Missouri River
with just a few feet of clearance
between the helicopter and the
blur of water below. Then, without notice, Barklage would climb
the aircraft to 300 feet.
“He would stall,” Ford says, “So
you’d be weightless for a bit. Then
he would take back control of the
stick and get it under control.”
On another occasion, when
Barklage was apparently feeling

the water, and only one of them
had on a life jacket. The other held
onto a piece of wood.
Ford remembers Barklage getting his attention in the back seat.
“I’m going to let you out,” Barklage
said.
Ford didn’t argue, and Barklage
dropped him off on a sand bar
and zoomed away. KMOX’s Joe
Sonderman, who was still inside,
watched as Barklage hovered the
chopper over the water. Then
Sonderman felt the aircraft tip on
its side, further than he’d ever felt
it tip before.
It took a moment to realize what
Barklage was doing.
“The thing was acting like a big
giant fan, you could see it was creating a wake.” Sonderman says
— the rotors blew the stranded
swimmers to shore while Sonderman hung perilously by his seatbelt. “All I could think about was,
‘Jesus Christ, what if this seat belt
lets loose?’” It didn’t.
Barklage’s instincts got him
through multiple close calls, including a takeoff on a TV news
chopper that literally ripped the
machine apart, throwing metal
and rotor pieces around the airfield and nearly killing Barklage
Continued on pg 24

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23

Barklage performed aerial stunts in his Mini 500 helicopter. In this photo, he’s practicing snatching
a hula hoop with the craft’s landing gear. | COURTESY OF GENE HOFFMEYER

ALLEN BARKLAGE
Continued from pg 23

and a co-pilot. Another time, someone on the ground shot a bullet
through the side of the helicopter.
Barklage laughed it off.
“He was bulletproof,” Sonderman says now. “You couldn’t
imagine him dying.”

T

he Revolution Mini 500
helicopter cost about
$24,000, arrived in boxes and provided pilots
of modest means the
rare opportunity to own a oneseater aircraft. All they had to do
was build it themselves.
Barklage was both a daredevil and a lifelong tinkerer who
worked around professional mechanics every day — the perfect
customer for the Mini. He appropriated a corner of a hanger at
his employer’s airfield, and over
some months, the boxes and parts
became a delicate-looking flying
machine with a bubble front.
The Mini stood barely eight
feet tall and weighed less than
900 pounds. The news choppers
Barklage usually flew cost more
than $1 million and weighed 1,500
pounds. With that weight (and
cost) came sophisticated safety
features, including crumple zones
in the landing gear designed to absorb the force of a crash. By comparison, the Mini was a soda can
with rotors — but pilots reported
that it was spectacularly fun to fly.
One day, traffic reporter Tori Lyons witnessed the tiny white helicopter diving and swooping toward the ground, aiming squarely
at a hula hoop being proffered by
Chris Berry. Behind the controls
of the Mini, her husband deftly
snatched the hoop from her hand
mid-dive. The Mini then darted
up into the sky, like a small bird

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NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

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who’d caught a worm.
Lyons remembers seeing the
helicopter while it was still under
construction, and thinking, “No
flipping way is he going to fly in
that.”
“Obviously he could fly it,” she
says now. “It was a helicopter.”
Still, Lyons didn’t like the look of
the Mini. “I know I said it to him,
‘You’re going to die in that thing,”
she recalls. Barklage scoffed that
he’d already survived Vietnam
and a hijacking. He told her, “I’ve
already had plenty of chances to
die.”
In fact, Berry says her husband
was so confident in the product
that he agreed to speak at the
manufacturer’s conference, attesting to the aircraft’s safety and
stability. It’s not clear whether
he was aware of the mechanical limitations in the Mini 500’s
guts, particularly the Rotex engine, whose 1994 owner’s manual
buried a warning on the very last
page: “This engine, by its design,
is subject to sudden stoppage! Engine stoppage can result in crash
landings. Such landings can lead
to serious bodily injury or death.”
On
September
19,
1998,
Barklage took off in the Mini 500
from the airport in Cahokia. In a
later report by the National Transportation Safety Board, a witness
reported seeing the helicopter
clearing the tops of telephone
wires and flying in a wide turn
around a hangar before making
its way west toward St. Louis.
Barklage and his Mini were less
than 200 feet off the ground.
Then, the witness heard a pop.
Sudden silence replaced the
whine of the helicopter’s engine.
The helicopter started to drop.
At 30 to 40 feet, the craft seemed
to level out, but it was still coming
down. The helicopter struck nosefirst, cartwheeling into the ground

Barklage regularly abandoned his traffic assignments at the barest hint of something
more interesting. One day Barklage learned of
an empty boat drifting in the middle of the Mississippi. Its two passengers were now stranded
in the water, and only one of them had on a life
jacket. The other held onto a piece of wood.
Barklage turned to his passenger. “I’m going
to let you out,” he said.
and finally coming to rest in a soybean field north of the airport.
In such a light craft, the crash
wrought catastrophic damage to
Barklage’s head and spine. He was
in a coma for six days.
Berry knew he was gone at the
moment of impact. On September
25, she asked the doctors to unhook the machines keeping her
husband’s body breathing.
The federal investigation concluded that Barklage’s engine had
seized up — specifically, “a loss of
engine power due to cold seizure
of the power-takeoff cylinder” —
a malfunction that was already
proving fatally common in the line
of kit helicopters. Dozens of accidents were recorded after the Mini
500’s release in 1994. By the time
the manufacturer folded in 1999,
nine pilots had died in its helicopters. Barklage had been the fifth.

T

wenty years later, the
world has moved on
from Barklage’s flying
days. No helicopters
hover over highways

anymore.
In 2017, the last two holdouts,
KTRS and KMOX, joined the rest of
the local media in grounding their
airborne traffic operations. Traffic reporters like Tori Lyons now
sit in front of a computer screen
watching maps compiled with
GPS data. These days, she delivers
reports to radio audiences in Kansas City, Springfield and St. Louis,
as well as Wichita and Omaha.
GPS makes the job easy. Barklage
would have hated it.
On Lyons’ first day on the job
in 1992, she remembers Barklage
inviting her up to his office and
pulling out a thick blue scrapbook. She had just moved back
to St. Louis, and wasn’t familiar
with the Barklage mythology. He

flipped the album through pages
of newspaper clippings, a picture
of Trapnell, a gory photo of a helicopter dripping with Barbara Oswald’s blood.
But the scrapbook contained
more than carnage. Later passed
to Barklage’s brother, and then
to his former sister-in-law, the album’s 87 pages trace a life of bravery and good luck: a boy staring
out of his school portrait, a high
school track star, a combat pilot, a
tireless reporter.
Multiple pages are devoted to
the 1978 escape, the headlines
and follow-up stories preserved
behind adhesive plastic. There are
no stories about Robyn Oswald.
On page 77, the scrapbook opens
to a four-picture spread, grainy
photos captured off a TV screen.
The photos show a man hanging
from the skid of a helicopter, his
feet kicking above the Mississippi.
A life saved.
It is that version of Barklage
that his friends remember the
best. Surely that’s the case for Jim
Cavins, the O’Fallon patrol officer
riding along with Barklage on the
day of that rescue in 1991.
Cavins had seen the man fall
from the bridge just as Barklage
made a pass, the helicopter hovering for a moment over the sea
of blinking red brake lights and
gawking motorists.
Barklage turned in his seat,
and gestured to Cavins. “Undo
your harness and open the door,”
Barklage instructed.
Below them, the man in the
water struggled to keep his head
above water. Cavins remembers
Barklage’s voice, steady and unpanicked. It was the voice of a pilot who didn’t think twice.
“Allen just says, ‘We’re going to
get him,’” Cavins says. “And then
we just dove.”
n

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25

26

CALENDAR

BY PAUL FRISWOLD

Carol Burnett.

THURSDAY 11/08
(Tarzan Yell!)
Carol Burnett wasn’t always a
showbiz legend and comedy icon,
but even early on in her career,
she seemed to be breaking new
ground. When she appeared on
Ed Sullivan’s show in 1957 with
her standup act about the different kinds of actresses you encounter at theater auditions, it was a
glimpse of the future of comedy.
Burnett’s schtick was more comic
acting than comedy, and it stood
out among the impressionists, acrobats and some guy named Elvis
Presley (he was pretty good). Within ten years Burnett had her own
variety show, which she graciously
shared with comedy heavy-hitters
Harvey Korman, Tim Conway and
her protege, Vicki Lawrence. Burnett famously opened each show
by taking questions from the audience, which she’ll do again at Carol Burnett: An Evening of Laughter and Reflection. The night also
includes video clips from her longrunning show and reminiscences
about the cast. The show starts at
7:30 p.m. Thursday, November 8,
at the Stifel Theatre (1400 Market
Street;
www.stifeltheatre.com).
Tickets are $65 to $175.

the stage, and his most popular
work remains Die Fledermaus.
The operetta is a comic tale of
mistaken identities, disguises and
a mostly harmless plot to exact revenge on a friend for a past prank.
Eisenstein is a wealthy Viennese
gent facing a brief jail sentence
for insulting an important person, but forestalls his time in the
clink by a day so he can go the
season’s big ball. What Eisenstein
doesn’t know is the whole ball
is a setup arranged by Falke, the
target of Eisenstein’s last prank.
Mrs. Eisenstein is there to trap
her husband in a near-infidelity,
the maid is in on it, and all Falke
has to do is watch his friend put
his head in the noose. Winter Opera St. Louis opens its new season with Die Fledermaus. Performances are 7:30 p.m. Friday and
3 p.m. Sunday (November 9 and
11) at the Skip Viragh Center for
the Arts (425 South Lindbergh

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local artists to construct unique,
small-house models. Each model
is then captured from all sides and
angles using digital video, which
is then fed into a computer using
a special program. The computer
file is exported to a state-of-theart, full-color 3D printer, which
forms a three-dimensional model
to be placed inside a globe, creating a one-of-a-kind keepsake. See
and bid on the finished products at
the Snowball’s silent auction, with
proceeds going to St. Louis Winter
Outreach’s Assisi House, which
helps homeless people transition to
housing. The Snowball runs from 7
to 11 p.m. Saturday, November 10,
at Rockwell Beer Company (1320
South Vandeventer Avenue; www.
itsasnowday.com), and also features live music by the Heavenly
States, DJ Thomas Crone (he does
many other things as well, including write for the RFT) and co-hosts
Kat Kissick, Maxi Glamour and Michelle Schaeffer. Admission is free.

The Swashbuckler’s
Swashbuckler

The Queen of Mars is surrounded by schemers.
Boulevard; www.winteroperastl.
org). Tickets are $35 to $55, but
the company’s new student night
on Friday allows young patrons to
enjoy drinks and pizza before the
show in addition to $10 tickets for
the opera. Advance reservations
recommended.

Sex Game
FRIDAY 11/09
The great Alexandre Dumas began
writing career in the theater
The Original Batman his
as a dramatist, with the occasionWhile known as “the Waltz King,”
Johann Strauss II also wrote for

farce about lovers and a seduction
contest. Vladimir Zelevinsky has
loosely adapted and condensed
the story down to a more manageable length in the two-act comedy,
The Great Seduction. It’s about a
duke and countess who are paramours (but not exclusive), and
Gabrielle, a fresh country girl just
arrived in Paris. The duke is immediately taken with her, while
the countess has set her sights on
the handsome Raoul. Incensed by
the young competitor’s presence,
the duke bets Raoul he can seduce
the first woman he sees. Care to
guess who shows up? (It’s Raoul’s
fiancee, Gabrielle.) West End Players Guild presents the bedroom
farce The Great Seduction at 8
p.m. Thursday through Saturday
and 2 p.m. Sunday (November 9
to 18) at the Union Avenue Christian Church (733 North Union
Boulevard; www.westendplayers.
org). Tickets are $20 to $25.

al comedy as well. His Mademoiselle de Belle Isle was a five-act

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

riverfronttimes.com

SATURDAY 11/10
Snow on Saturday
Have you thought about snow
globes lately? The cool souvenir of
your childhood is coming back in
a big way thanks to Snow Day. The
St. Louis-based company makes
custom snow globes using cutting-edge technology, and you can
see the results at the Snowball.
Snow Day commissioned Alicia
LaChance, Sarah Paulsen, Justin
Tolentino and more than 30 other

It’s no understatement to say that
Douglas Fairbanks was one of the
people who made Hollywood what
it is today. The silent-age actor was
both dashing and daring, playing
a jaunty Robin Hood and an exuberant Zorro while doing his own
stunts. At the time Fairbanks was
working, Hollywood was more artists’ colony than cinematic capital
of the world. When he joined with
his fiancee Mary Pickford and
friends Charlie Chaplin and D.W.
Griffith to create the United Artists
studio, they laid the foundation
for the modern showbiz industry.
The documentary I, Douglas Fairbanks uses film clips, newsreels
and first-person narration (provided by actor Peter Facinelli) to
tell the story of the “King of Hollywood” and how his kingdom came
to be. Also on the bill is the Alan
Dwan silent film The Halfbreed,
Fairbanks’ stab at being a serious
actor, with the original score and
live accompaniment by the Rats &
People Motion Picture Orchestra.
The double bill is shown at 7 p.m.
Saturday, November 10, at Webster University’s Moore Auditorium (477 East Lockwood Avenue;
www.cinemastlouis.org) as part

WEEK OF NOVEMBER 8-14
hungry during the Thanksgiving
season, it’s best to send your gift
early — the sooner you do it, the
better everybody’s holiday dinner will be. Cranksgiving, the annual cycling-based fundraiser presented locally by St. Louis Bicycle
Works, is a great way to do your
part. Participating cyclists gather at
the Schlafly Tap Room (2100 Locust
Street; www.bworks.com/cranksgiving) at 8 a.m. on Sunday, November 11, pay the $10 to $15 entry fee
and then pick a route to ride. Along
the way they stop at participating
grocery stores and buy non-perishable food, particularly canned tuna
or chicken, peanut butter and Mandarin oranges. Upon return to the
Tap Room, all of the groceries and
entry fees are donated to Operation Food Search. Last year the St.
Louis event resulted in more than
8,400 food items, more than any
other city; it would be nice to break
that record this time out.

SUNDAY 11/11
Revolutionary Art
The 1960s were a period of social
upheaval and radical change in
America, and no art form captured
that churning spirit better than
printmaking. Printmakers have always had one foot in the commer-

cial art world and one in the realm
of fine art, and that hybrid nature allows them to adapt to new
technologies and new thinking
more quickly than, say, sculptors.
Graphic Revolution: American
Prints 1960 to Now, the exhibition at the Saint Louis Art Museum
(1 Fine Arts Drive; www.slam.org),
is a treasure trove of startling images. Featuring more than 100
works drawn from the museum’s
holdings and local private collectors, Graphic Revolution includes

landmark prints by the big names
(Andy Warhol’s Campbell’s Soup II,
Robert Rauschenberg’s Signs) and
less famous but no less astonishing
pieces by modern masters such as
Julie Mehretu and Edgar Heap of
Birds. The show is open from Sunday, November 11, to February 3.
Tickets are $6 to $14, but free to all
on Friday.

Bike for Food
If you want to donate food for the

riverfronttimes.com

The Kemper Art Museum wraps
up its Technofutures Film Series
with the early Soviet Russian film
Aelita: Queen of Mars. Los and
Spiridinov are engineers who receive a startling radio message that
was transmitted around the world,
even as Los feels as if he’s being
constantly watched. Compelled to
discover who it is observing him,
he builds a spaceship and journeys to Mars with a revolutionary
comrade. There he finds that it’s
Aelita, the Queen of Mars, who has
been observing him. But why does
the highly advanced Martian society keep its working class in cold
storage when they’re not on the
job? And who really runs Mars?
The film’s subtext is very Soviet
in nature (it was made barely six
years after the revolution), but the
costumes and scenery are cuttingedge Constructivist masterpieces
courtesy of designer Sergei Kozlovsky, painter Alexandra Exter
and theater artist Isaak Rabinovich. Aelita: Queen of Mars is shown
at 7 p.m. Monday, November 12, at
the Landmark Tivoli Theatre (6350
Delmar Boulevard, University City;
www.kemperartmuseum.wustl.
n
edu) and admission is free.

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

RIVERFRONT TIMES

27

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of what makes this neighborhood great.

reddie Mercury — the biggest
rock star ever to come from
Zanzibar — was a charismatic talent who combined the
cocky stage presence of Mick
Jagger with a rich voice that could
purr or explode over four octaves
and gleefully hitched a ride on
the Bowie/Bolan wave of androgyny while never looking back.
Or maybe he was just a hardworking guy and a loyal son who
wanted to make his immigrant
parents proud. That’s the choice
provided by Bohemian Rhapsody,
a watered-down biography of the
Queen vocalist that runs dutifully
through the band’s catalog of hits
but strains itself trying to avoid
controversy.
Bohemian Rhapsody bends a
few details to create a contrived
plot in which Mercury loses his
way, succumbs to sex, drugs and
fame, but is redeemed by the power of rock & roll. Forced dramatic
arc aside, there’s not much more
to the film than a few career high
points, told along the same lines
as every old MGM musical biography where an off-screen narrator
tells us, “And then I wrote ...”
The biggest problem with this
kind of biography — especially one that treads so carefully
around the wilder threads of Mercury’s life — is that it’s kind of dull.
Sure, the band has conflicts, but
not for long. We see, for example,
some of the members dismissing
a new song as “disco” — until they
start playing it and it turns out to

Mercury’s sexuality,
as much a factor
in his stage
presence as his
voice, is reduced
to crude nods
and smoldering
glances worthy of a
1940s GI scare film
about syphilis.
be “Another One Bites the Dust.”
Mercury questions one of guitarist Brian May’s song ideas, until
it turns into “We Will Rock You.”
Thomas Edison may not agree
with the formula, but in this film,
musical genius is 99 percent inspiration and 1 percent bickering.
It’s not entirely surprising that
the film is a directionless mess;
director Bryan Singer left the
production early amid reports of
on-set clashes with the cast and
off-set sexual misconduct. (His
replacement, Dexter Fletcher, receives no credit but will be earning his rock bio stripes next year
with the Elton John biography
Rocket Man.) But what could all

the fighting have been about? The
film itself is the model of timidity.
Aside from one clever touch —
ending the title track with excerpts
from its harshest reviews — the
filmmakers don’t seem to have
much passion for the music or the
players. Aside from the climactic recreation of Queen’s appearance at Live Aid in 1985, the concert scenes are reduced to cliched
montages: a few snippets of music
while names of the cities where
Queen performed float across the
stage. Even Mercury’s sexuality, as
much a factor in his stage presence
as his voice, is, for much of the
film, reduced to crude nods and
smoldering glances worthy of a
1940s GI scare film about syphilis.
Rami Malek provides a great deal
of energy as Mercury, although inevitably the performance takes on
the quality of a parody, a recreation of the images we’ve already
seen on MTV. Unfortunately, the
filmmakers make a great deal of
Mercury’s dental condition (he
had four extra teeth in his upper
bridge, which he credited for his
vocal range), and the actor often
seems worried to distraction by
his prosthetic teeth. Biographical
films, especially about flamboyant
characters like Mercury, always
walk a thin line between recreation and caricature. Rockstar impersonations are a delicate thing,
and a bad dental plate is all it takes
to turn an earnest performance
into a well-intentioned but shallow
pastiche.
n

he moment you walk into
Cork n’ Slice it hits you: the
aroma of roasted garlic. But
it’s not just the room’s pungent perfume that provides
such a warm welcome. The restaurant’s large brick oven sits at
the end of a narrow walkway opposite the entrance. Next to the
delicious smell, it’s the first thing
you notice when you enter, its vibrant orange flames licking vigorously around its interior like
an inferno. You’ll feel as if you’ve
been wrapped in a fuzzy electric
blanket before you’ve even sat
down at the table.
You might be surprised to find
out that such an inviting scene
has been set by a first-time restaurateur. However, owner Cornell
Thirdkill is no stranger to creating
moods. Though he’s new to the
restaurant business, Thirdkill cut
his teeth as a tour manager, a gig
that took him around the world
doing everything from managing
a production team and handling
budgets to making sure green
rooms were properly stocked and
artist riders accurately executed.
One of the biggest perks of the
job was trying different foods. A
self-described foodie, Thirdkill
took every chance he got to experience the cuisines of the 30 or
so countries he visited working
as a concert manager. He would

Cork n’ Slice’s margherita is topped with wood-fired tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, balsamic glaze and basil. | MABEL SUEN
joke with his brother that one day,
maybe when he was 50, he would
leave the music business and open
a restaurant of his own.
It happened twenty years early.
After leaving the concert industry
and settling back in his native St.
Louis, Thirdkill obtained his real
estate license with the goal of flipping properties. When an agent
showed him an attractive property downtown, he decided not only
to buy the building but to run it as
a series of nightclubs and lounges.
For three years, he ran these popup style events while increasingly
feeling the pull to open a restaurant of his own. He tried on a few
occasions to partner with people
on different restaurant projects,
but none of them stuck.
The right opportunity came after
Pizzeria Mia closed in the Central
West End. When Thirdkill’s agent
showed him the storefront, a lovely windowed space complete with
a wood-fired pizza oven on the
ground floor of an older apartment
building, he was transported back
to one of his favorite restaurants.
Berri’s Pizzeria in Los Angeles had
always stuck with him because
it represented all that a pizzeria
could be — elegant but approachable, comforting yet unexpected

enough to be interesting. Thinking about Berri’s signature lobster
pizza, he knew he’d found his spot.
Though the restaurant was basically turnkey, it took Thirdkill
roughly a year and a half to translate his vision into reality. The majority of that time was spent trying to develop his menu. Thirdkill
had ideas, but he wasn’t a trained
chef and ran into problems getting the flavors and recipes right.
Increasingly frustrated, he mentioned his struggles to a friend,
who introduced him to chef Kyle
Parks. The industry veteran and
L’Ecole Culinaire instructor loved
Thirdkill’s vision, and the pair immediately clicked as they worked
together to perfect the concept
and menu. In February, they felt
comfortable they had it right and
opened Cork n’ Slice to the public.
Thirdkill has always been attracted to the fine-dining side of
the restaurant business, and it
shows in the aesthetic changes
he’s made to the space. Gone is
Pizzeria Mia’s neutral palette, replaced with a striking red, black
and white color scheme that gives
the room a dramatic modern feel.
Walls have been painted candyapple red, and a mix of red and
black chairs and black leather

riverfronttimes.com

banquettes provide seating. A
three-dimensional,
black-andwhite photo of wine barrels aging
in a cellar covers one of the walls
and creates the illusion of additional space.
Such an upscale setting befits
Cork n’ Slice’s refined approach to
pizza. Taking Barri’s lobster pizza
as a jumping-off point, Thirdkill
invites his guests to see his pizzas the same way you would a
high-end entree — just one that
happens to be served on chewy,
wood-fired crust that is speckled
with pleasantly bitter char.
The style is similar to Neapolitan — soft in the middle, puffed
up and chewy around the edges —
though Parks emphasizes that he
is not chained to the parameters
of that designation. His margherita evokes the classic version, but
isn’t a literal translation. The crust
is covered in San Marzano tomatoes, ovals of fresh mozzarella
and verdant basil leaves. However, Parks adds a balsamic drizzle
and whole cherry tomatoes that
roast in the oven to the point that
they pop open when bitten. These
elements add a bright, mouth-watering burst of tartness; they’re a
welcome addition.

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

Continued on pg 35

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33

34

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NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

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CORK N’ SLICE
Continued from pg 33

On the “West End,” luscious béchamel and molten fontina cheese
are generously slathered over the
pie, their creaminess punctuated
by succulent chicken, bacon and
funky blue cheese. Balsamic and
pickled red onions cut through
the richness, and fresh arugula
— smartly added after the pizza
comes out of the oven — adds
a peppery bite. It’s a wonderful
Cobb salad in pizza form.
The heavenly smell of the “Hunting for Truffles” pizza is as alluring
as Cork n’ Slice’s garlic perfume.
Pungent truffle oil greets you before the pizza even arrives at the
table; however, Parks hasn’t overused the powerful oil, adding just
a whisper to the béchamel-based
pizza. It infuses the cream sauce,
wild mushrooms, goat cheese and
delicate prosciutto with delightful yet powerful funk, but it does
not take over (a testament to his
deft touch). And the prosciutto —
finally, a pizzeria has managed to
add the paper-thin pork to a pizza
without overcooking it. Hallelujah.
Thirdkill and Parks try their
hands at both jerk-seasoned and
gyro pizza, with successful re-

sults. “What a Jerk” pairs the Caribbean seasoned chicken with
jalapeños, peppers, onions and
cilantro. Mango-pineapple relish
cools down the pie’s searing heat. I
did find myself wishing there was
more depth to the jerk seasoning,
but the “My Big Fat Greek Pizza”
proved perfect as is. Tzatziki subs
in for traditional pizza sauce, and
is covered in gyro meat and its traditional condiments. Green olives
provide a wonderfully briny bite.
Cork n’ Slice proves equally adept at something as simple as a
cheese pizza. Here, however, it’s
whimsically called the “Kevin McCallister,” a nod to Home Alone,
and presents as a delectably gooey
mix of cheese and tomato sauce.
Mozzarella, fontina, smoked gouda and Parmesan combine with
crushed San Marzano tomatoes,
offering a layer of complexity beyond a single cheese blend, but
not so much as to take away from
a cheese pizza’s simple comfort.
Of course, Cork n’ Slice’s pièce
de résistance is its nod to what
inspired this endeavor in the first
place: the lobster-and-shrimp
pizza. I’ll admit I was skeptical;
visions of rubbery frozen lobster
covered in cheese nearly prevented me from ordering it. I will
eat my words. Better yet, I’ll eat

this masterpiece. For the base,
a creamy “rosé” sauce mimics
the luxurious texture and subtle
sweetness of lobster bisque. On
top, tender lobster that has been
poached in citrus and fresh herbs
is paired with equally tender
roasted shrimp. The shellfish is
sprinkled with orange-tarragon
gremolata, perfuming the pizza
with bright, licorice refreshment.
Were I served lobster and shrimp
of this quality at a seafood restaurant, I’d be impressed. That such
beautiful shellfish exists after
being fired in a thousand-degree
oven is simply mind-boggling and
perfectly encapsulates Thirdkill’s
vision.
Though pizza is the star attraction at Cork n’ Slice, the restaurant offers a handful of appetizers and salads. “Bánh Mì Tacos”
feature fork-tender, if not a bit
salty, hoisin-braised pork paired
with fresh vegetables. White-bean
hummus is a fun riff on the classic
chickpea version, though it would
benefit from some seasoning.
A “Strawberries & Champagne”
salad pairs arugula, sliced champagne-infused strawberries and
red onion with a luscious wedge
of mild blue cheese, walnuts and
balsamic.
My favorite appetizer was the

riverfronttimes.com

“Mamma Mia Meatballs,” a perfectly seasoned sphere of beef,
herbs and milk-soaked bread (our
server dished on the secret to
their tender texture). Covered in
simple tomato sauce and shaved
Parmesan cheese, these were a
bite of pure comfort.
The only problem is that they
were out of them on one of my visits. This happens — but the restaurant was also out of the spinach-artichoke cheesecake appetizer and
all but two (out of approximately
ten) red wine offerings on both visits. The food was good enough that
the missing pieces warranted only
a semi-raised eyebrow.
Thirdkill openly admits that
he is still learning how to run a
restaurant, and that snafus like
that hole-ridden wine list are
the growing pains of a first-time
restaurateur. He shouldn’t be so
hard on himself. He has the tough
part down — a thoughtful, wellexecuted repertoire of offerings
that provides a refreshing and
unexpected take on a ubiquitous
dish. When you can provide that,
the sky is the limit.

With aims of being the best sandwich shop in the city, Snarf’s award-winning sandwich shops has carved out
quite a delicious niche in St. Louis. Owners Jodi and Maty Aronson opened Snarf’s first successful St. Louis
location after Jodi’s brother Jimmy Seidel founded the concept in Colorado. Currently at four locations,
Snarf’s is readily feeding the Gateway City’s appetite for fast, flavorful, toasted sandwiches using only the
finest ingredients. Choosing a favorite from more than 20 classic and specialty sandwich options is difficult,
but try the New York Steak & Provolone, with juicy bits of premium meat cooked to perfection and accented
with cheese and Snarf’s signature giardiniera pepper blend for a kick. All sandwiches are made with Fazio’s
locally made fresh-baked bread and can be customized with a variety of fresh toppings. Don’t forget to check
out the salads served with homemade dressings, rotating soups, sides such as Zapp’s gourmet potato chips,
and desserts. Snarf’s also offers vegetarian options, a gluten-free menu, a full catering menu and delivery.

“Laissez les bons temps rouler” typically is what you’d hear in New Orleans, but thanks to the southerncomfort cooking at Highway 61 Roadhouse & Kitchen, there are plenty of good times rolling in St. Louis,
too. The Webster Grove hotspot blends the voodoo of the bayou with hearty fare and drinks for a spicy
experience. In a charming, funky space with colorful blues paraphernalia lining the walls and live music throughout the week, kick off the night with deep-fried wontons stuffed with shrimp, Cajun grits,
bacon and a blend of pepperjack and ghost cheese. For a real taste of Louisiana, order the D.D.D. Sampler; named for the “Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives” episode that visited Hwy 61, the sampler includes the
restaurant’s signature red beans and rice, BBQ Spaghetti and CajAsian potstickers. If you’re really hungry, opt for platters that feature the smothered catfish, stuffed chicken or blackened meat medallions
served with a variety of kickin’ sides. Wash it all down with plenty of beers, wines and specialty cocktails.

COPIA

FRIDA’S

3 ST. LOUIS LOCATIONS
VISIT WEBSITE
FOR MORE
INFORMATION

314.727.6500
622 N AND SOUTH RD.
ST. LOUIS, MO
63130

For a transcendent wine experience in St. Louis, Copia is the place to be. Named for the Roman goddess of abundance, wealth, pleasure and harvest, Copia pours plenty of vino alongside its classic New
American fare. Experience the world through dozens of wines, available by the bottle or by the glass;
for the adventurous, there are wine or spirit flights that offer tastes of Copia favorites. The wine doesn’t
stand alone, though – at Copia, the food is as thoughtful as the drink. For dinner, feast on slow-roasted
prime rib or slow-braised lamb shank, each succulent and served with delectable sides. From the sea,
try jumbo jalapno and cilantro shrimp jambalaya, served with cajun-spiced andouille sausage and
creole rice. And now there’s even more Copia to go around – 14 years after opening the flagship location downtown, Copia recently has added a location in Clayton and also soon will be in West County.

As one of the premier vegetarian restaurants in the St. Louis area, Frida’s has earned accolades for serving hearty meals that are as tasty as they are nourishing. Owners Natasha Kwan-Roloff (also the executive chef) and Rick Roloff elevate vegetarian cuisine by marrying high-quality, local ingredients
with innovative flavors. All items are made from scratch, have no butter or sugar and use little to no oil
– but with the flavors and creativity at Frida’s, you won’t miss anything. The University City restaurant’s
newest hit is the Impossible Burger – a massive plant-based patty that has the texture and juiciness of
meat and often fools carnivores. Frida’s award-winning signature namesake burger is no slouch, either, with its tahini-chipotle slaw topping and local bun. The menu also boasts decadent favorites
like tacos, wraps, pizzas and desserts, and a new Sunday brunch that just launched in April. Beer and
wine are available, and many of Frida’s menu items can be modified for vegan or gluten-free diners.

BLOOD & SAND

BLK MKT EATS

BLOODANDSANDSTL.COM

BLKMKTEATS.COM

314.241.7263
1500 SAINT CHARLES ST.
ST. LOUIS, MO
63103

314.391.5100
9 S. VANDEVENTER AVE.
ST. LOUIS, MO
63108

Everyone needs a hideaway – a place that’s “yours,” where you can find good food, good drink and
good friends. In St. Louis, Blood & Sand is such a special spot. The acclaimed downtown parlour has
become known for excellent cocktails like its namesake, a tribute to the Rudolph Valentino silent
movie; other favorites are named for popular songs, such as the Wannabe (Spice Girls) and The Harder
They Come (Jimmy Cliff). Blood & Sand has an carefully crafted New American menu to complement those drinks, as well. Kick off dinner with the ceviche, featuring king diver scallop, aguachile and
avocado before moving on to main courses like wild boar loin or roasted quail. At the end of the meal,
don’t miss the Candy Bar, a decadent log of coffee, chocolate, dulce de leche, coconut and almond.
Previously available for its membership only, Blood & Sand now has opened its doors to the public,
though members will continue to receive extra touches like preferential pricing and special tastings.

The fast-fresh, made-to-order concept has been applied to everything from pizza to pasta in St. Louis, but the
sushi burrito surprisingly had no Gateway City home until BLK MKT Eats opened near Saint Louis University
last fall. It was worth the wait, though, because BLK MKT Eats combines bold flavors and convenience into a
perfectly wrapped package that’s ideal for those in a rush. Cousins and co-owners Kati Fahrney and Ron Turigliatto offer a casual menu full of high-quality, all-natural ingredients that fit everything you love about suAVERAGE
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9 SOUTH VANDEVENTER DINE-IN, TAKEOUT OR DELIVERY MON-SAT
11AM-9PM
of spicy tuna or salmon alongside tempura crunch, masago, shallots, jalapeño and piquant namesake
sauce; Persian cucumbers and avocado soothe your tongue from the sauce’s kick. All burrito rolls come with
sticky rice wrapped in nori or can be made into poké bowls, and all items can be modified for vegetarians.

EATATFRIDAS.COM

COPIABRAND.COM

36

RIVERFRONT TIMES

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

riverfronttimes.com

SHORT ORDERS

37

[SIDE DISH]

Michael Wise
Is a Chef
Who Packs a
Punch
Written by

CHERYL BAEHR

M

ichael Wise was exposed
to the restaurant business
from an early age — growing up in Florida as the son
of a chef, it was an experience he could not avoid. Both
parents were in the industry, and
they even owned a few restaurants of their own. Of course, they
put their son to work as soon as he
was old enough. What Wise didn’t
realize, though, was that his father was doing it to dissuade him
from going into the industry.
“My father always put me to
work doing really tedious things,”
Wise recalls. “I started working for
him when I was nine or ten years
old, and I have this one memory
that always sticks in my head. He’d
have me tie asparagus together
with a leek for string. He made me
do all of these tedious, old-school
things to thoroughly discourage
me from going into the industry.”
These days, Wise’s dad is happy
with his son’s career path, with
the young chef having worked
his way up from those humble
asparagus-tying beginnings to his
current role as chef de cuisine at
the charming St. Louis Hills spot
Edibles & Essentials (5815 Hampton Avenue, 314-328-2300). Wise,
too, is pleased with the direction
his life has taken, even though it’s
not what he had originally intended. His plan was to become an architect, and after graduating from
high school, he left Florida to pursue those studies at Idaho’s Boise
State University.
Wise was at Boise State for about
two-and-a-half years, but left the
program and moved to the ski resort town of Sun Valley. Though
he relished its beauty, the cost

Michael Wise’s parents tried to warn him away from the restaurant industry, but he’s glad he didn’t listen. | JEN WEST
of living was exorbitant, and he
needed to figure out his next step.
When his partner’s father offered
to move the pair to his hometown
in southern Illinois, Wise figured,
“Why not?”
That move would prove fateful
in jump-starting Wise’s career in
the restaurant business. When he
arrived in Illinois, he got a job as
a barista but quickly moved to the
kitchen after asking the owner to
pick up some shifts. The experience awakened his passion for
food and knack for cooking, which
he would further develop when
he got a job at a Thai restaurant.
Wise had always loved Thai food
— at an early age, he’d join his
mom at Thai restaurants — so he
jumped at the opportunity to take a
deep dive into the cuisine. Though
he came to the restaurant fairly inexperienced, he caught on quickly
and soon was working shoulder
to shoulder with Thai cooks who
commanded his respect.
“I learned a lot there, especially
how important working hard is,”
Wise says. “I was the youngest
person there at 24 or 25 years old.
There was this one guy who still

worked there in his 70s. He’d be
there all day, lifting these heavy
pots and woks, and it made me realize, ‘How can I complain when
there is this guy 30 years older
working next to me?’”
Wise worked at the Thai restaurant for a year before moving
across the river to take a job at
Three Flags Tavern in St. Louis.
When that restaurant closed, he
moved on to Juniper and then Olive + Oak before settling into his
new role at Edibles & Essentials
this October.
As chef de cuisine, Wise works
side by side with owner and executive chef Matt Borchardt — a boss
who is both willing to collaborate
and encouraging of Wise’s creative
freedom. You may see some Gulf
Coast influences in dishes added to
Edibles & Essentials’ menu; Wise
admits he misses his native region’s excellent seafood. However,
don’t expect him to leave for the
ocean anytime soon.
“I actually had a close encounter with drowning once,” Wise
says. “I have no desire to return to
the water.”
Wise took a break from his new

riverfronttimes.com

chef duties to share his thoughts
on the St. Louis culinary scene,
his love for animals (he actually
briefly worked for Stray Rescue)
and why you will only see realdeal butter in his kitchen.
What is one thing people don’t
know about you that you wish they
did?
I’m a huge animal lover and rescuer.
What daily ritual is non-negotiable for you?
Being presentable and looking
my best.
If you could have any superpower, what would it be?
To be able to travel anywhere at
instant speed.
What is the most positive thing
in food, wine or cocktails that
you’ve noticed in St. Louis over the
past year?
Vegetable-forward cuisine.
What is something missing in the
local food, wine or cocktail scene
that you’d like to see?
Thai street food — especially a
food truck.
Who is your St. Louis food crush?

iracle, the holiday-themed popup bar, is coming back to St. Louis for the third year — with Small
Change (2800 Indiana Avenue) again
playing host beginning November 23.
The Benton Park bar is owned by
acclaimed bartenders Ted and Jamie
Kilgore, along with business partner Ted
Charak, so it’s not like it doesn’t have a
dose of magic to offer on ordinary days.
But for the Christmas season, things get
extra special, with “nostalgic holiday decor,” a host of special cocktails and popularity to the point that reservations are
recommended.
Miracle STL is part of a national popup that began in New York City in 2014.

MICHAEL WISE
Continued from pg 37

Jesse Mendica of Olive + Oak.
Everyone knows she’s an amazing
chef, but they don’t know she’s
also an amazing person.
Who’s the one person to watch
right now in the St. Louis dining
scene?
Anyone innovative and not
afraid to cook from the heart.
Which ingredient is most representative of your personality?
Chile peppers. They’re deceptively small but pack a punch.
If you weren’t working in the restaurant business, what would you
be doing?
Architecture or interior design.

It came to St. Louis in 2016, occupying a
vacant space on Chouteau (“Miracle on
Chouteau” — so cute!).
Last year, it set up shop for the first
time in Small Change. This year’s iteration is one of 80 (!) planned across the
country.
Press materials promise a host of
fascinating new cocktails, including the
“Christmas Carol Barrel” (aged rum,
Aquavit, Amaro, pumpkin pie, Demerara
syrup, lime, vanilla, Angostura bitters)
and “A Partridge in a Pear Tree” (Reposado Tequila, pear brandy, mezcal, Spiced
Demerara syrup, lime, egg white, club
soda, Angostura bitters, cinnamon).
It’s all very much of the modern mixology moment, but also totally approachable. Who doesn’t love Christmas-y flavors like cinnamon and pear?
The pop-up will run from Friday, November 23, to Saturday, December 29.
Reservations can now be made online
a TockTix.com.
— Sarah Fenske

314-240-5544
2301 CHEROKEE ST

Kalbitacoshack.com

WED–SUN 11AM-5:30PM

DELIVERY AVAILABLE

Vegetarian, vegan & GF options

Name an ingredient never allowed in your restaurant.
Margarine. I mean, what the
hell? It doesn’t even decompose.
What is your after-work hangout?
Work — or local bars on the east
side like L.C.’s Pub. I’m very casual outside of my career.
What’s your food or beverage
guilty pleasure?
Sour Patch Kids. They just satisfy a need, but I’m always looking
for acidity in food or elsewhere.
What would be your last meal on
earth?
I love Thai food. It would be
laarb ghai or a beef salad. I’m not
going to lie, foie gras would be my
first choice, but I’ve opted out of
eating it for ethical reasons.
n

riverfronttimes.com

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

RIVERFRONT TIMES

39

[FIRST LOOK]

Sze Chuan
Brings the
Heat on Olive
Written by

DESI ISAACSON

T

he food at Sze Chuan Cuisine
(7930 Olive Boulevard, University City; 314-925-8755) is
hot, both in temperature and
spice.
Recently opened in the former
home of Asiana Garden on Olive
Boulevard in University City, Sze
Chuan Cuisine has a large menu
full of classic Szechuan dishes and
Americanized favorites. The restaurant space is big, large enough
for a raised section in addition
to the main dining room, which
keeps each table feeling intimate.
The bricks splitting the two areas are painted black, the better
to contrast with the sleek white
tables and bright red chairs. The
place feels quite modern. The
walls are covered in a dark gray
wallpaper with a hodge-podge of
words describing dining at the
restaurant. One that you might
notice heavily repeated: “spicy.”
This is either a warning or a
promise, depending on how you
feel about the Szechuan region’s
famously numbing heat.
The menu is really big, and we
felt pretty lost trying to figure out
what we should order. We looked

40

RIVERFRONT TIMES

The chef’s special chicken is spicy; be prepared. (We weren’t.) | DESI ISAACSON
at the tables around us, and their
options looked amazing. One table had a griddle with some meat
and sauce that was literally bubbling in front of them as they took
bites with their white rice.
Still, you can go for the Americanized stuff if you have no interest in adventure. My friend ended
up ordering dumplings and sesame chicken. Here he was in a restaurant with real Chinese cuisine,
and he ordered the same stuff
he would get at Panda Express.
Lame.
But we didn’t just go for the
boring stuff: I ordered the “Brussels Sprouts Hot Griddle” and
the chef’s special chicken dish.
The moment I ordered the chicken, our waiter looked down at
me with a concerned look and
warned that it was “spicy.” I ignorantly believed I would be fine. I
was not.

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

riverfronttimes.com

I was careful with my first few
bites of chicken, and I found myself impressed by the flavor, but
not overwhelmed by the heat.
No sweat! Then I got one of the
chilis. I was almost through the
bite when it hit me like a hammer
over the head. I was dying for
more water and then a bite of the
brussels sprouts (spicy too!).
Finally, a bite of rice calmed me
down. But now I was on edge and
careful the rest of the meal. (By
the time I walked out, I was sweatier than after a full workout.)
While my friend was enjoying
his boring (but very good) sesame
chicken, I forced him to try a pepper. He thought he was fine too
until it hit him; then I got some
sympathy.
My problem is I kept going back
for more because it tasted so
damn good; I couldn’t stop myself
despite the pain.

The brussels sprouts (which
seemed to just be cabbage?) came
out on the promised griddle,
which proved to be something
like a hot pot and kept them bubbly hot the whole time. It was fun
to add a little flame to the table.
They were spicy too, but not nearly as searing as the chicken dish.
All of the portions we ordered
were huge, and probably meant
to be shared. You will have lots
to take home after, which is nice
because Sze Chuan Cuisine isn’t as
cheap as Panda Express; depending on what you order, dishes
range from around $12 to $30.
Sze Chuan Cuisine is open Monday through Friday from 11 a.m.
to 2:30 p.m., and then again from
4 to 9 p.m. Monday through Thursday, as well as Friday until 10 p.m.
On Saturday it’s open from 4 to 10
p.m. and on Sunday from 4 to 9
p.m.
n

Bloom Café serves a fresh take on casual dining while
helping people with disabilities grow their independence
through a unique job training program.
Just steps away from Forest Park and the St. Louis Science Center,
Bloom Café serves breakfast and lunch six days a week.

LOCATED IN THE
HEART OF DOGTOWN

lunch • dinner

sunday brunch
come enjoy our

new fall menu
6335 Clayton Ave.
St Louis,MO 63139

314-349-1933
stoneturtlestl.com

riverfronttimes.com

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

RIVERFRONT TIMES

41

42

RIVERFRONT TIMES

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

riverfronttimes.com

MUSIC & CULTURE

43

[HOMESPUN]

Back at the
Piano Again
After battling back from a nearfatal hit-and-run, keyboardist Dave
Grelle takes on something new: a
soul-jazz project called Playadors
Written by

t was just about two years ago
that Dave Grelle, a local keyboardist, bandleader and firstcall session musician, was run
down by a motorist as he crossed
South Grand Avenue. The November 2, 2016, hit-and-run accident
left Grelle with broken legs, broken
ribs and a lacerated liver, among a
host of other injuries.
He counts it as no small blessing that his hands — his most articulate artistic tools, his money
makers — remained unharmed
amid the other trauma. His recovery was an intensive process, and
Grelle still walks with the aid of a
cane and cops to memory losses
and bodily fatigue. But alongside
physical therapy, he used his own
personal form of musical theory
to regain his faculties.
“In my wheelchair, I could roll
out of the hospital bed and wheel
over to my Nord piano I had set
up,” Grelle recalls. “My scapulas
were both broken, so I had very
limited range of motion, but I
could play. So I worked on touch.”
It’s that touch that has made
Grelle such an in-demand keyboardist over much of the past
twenty years. He served as the
lead singer of the Feed, a borderbusting rock group that often used
Grelle’s electric piano in place of
the guitar, and he’s been a vital
presence in groups that veer from
Brazilian jazz (Kevin Bowers’
Nova) to live-band hip-hop (Mathias + the Pirates), New Orleans

Dave Grelle plays with many of the city’s most exciting and accomplished musicians. Now he’s leading his own project. | NATE BURRELL
street-funk (the Funky Butt Brass
Band) and KSHE-certified classic
rock (the Zeppelin cover band Celebration Day).
Now, two years after being
left for dead in the middle of the
street, Grelle is doing something
he has never done before: leading
his own project at the Ferring Jazz
Bistro, a venue that has long been
a brass ring for the city’s instrumentalists. Grelle’s group, which
he’s called Dave Grelle’s Playadors,
takes the stage this Friday and Saturday night for a program of originals and covers in a soul-jazz vein.
“The nice thing about getting hit
by the car was that due to physical
limitations, it made me start saying no to gigs, which I needed to
do if I ever wanted to start doing
more creative stuff,” Grelle says.
“Because it’s easy, and I’m super
fortunate to play with so many
people, but you can easily play
four or five nights a week.”
The time in recovery away from
the grind of weekly gigs gave
Grelle time to write music around
a band of old friends and musical
allies. Ben Reece and Kevin Bowers, who buttressed Grelle in the
Feed, will play woodwinds and
drums, respectively; Zelina Star,
with whom Grelle studied music

in college, will sing on a few tunes;
and Dee Dee James, who toured
with P-Funk legends Bootsy Collins and Bernie Worrell, will play
guitar.
Grelle has been working on the
original material for this show
since January. As he prepared
for a Monday night rehearsal at
his basement studio space in the
T. Rex building on Washington
Avenue downtown, the veteran
keyboardist walked through the
set list for his Bistro shows. Up
first is an original composition,
“Fractured Light.” It’s moody and
rhythmically dense, with clusters
of notes sitting uneasily atop each
other, as if Grelle’s right and left
hands are just out of sync.
“I don’t trip out and have trauma or flashbacks too often, but I
do remember the first thing I saw
when I woke up on the ground,”
Grelle says of the song’s inspiration. “I could see light between all
these tires; I was in the middle of
Grand.”
He calls it “kind of a heavy
tune” and plays a brief snippet of
each of the sections, using spare
piano chords to lay a plaintive
foundation and a dulcet patch
on his Minimoog synthesizer to
punctuate the mood. Later in the

riverfronttimes.com

evening, he shows the changes to
bassist Zeb Briskovich, and the
pair lock into the atypical groove
as the song ends on a tense, unresolved chord.
Two years after the accident,
Grelle has no need for reminders
of his new reality; his omnipresent cane, topped with a carved
eagle’s head, underlines it, and
he routinely pulls out tiny slivers
of windshield glass that have become embedded in his skin. But
he does keep another reminder of
a higher purpose on his keyboard
rig.
Before his accident, when his
son Julian was a few months old,
Grelle and his wife Kasey rushed
the boy to Children’s Hospital due
to a respiratory virus. Grelle had
to leave the hospital to play a gig,
but he put his hospital nametag —
a grainy mugshot that identified
him as the parent of a sick child —
on the upper right of his electric
piano. It remains there today.
“I used to get really fucking
hard on myself about gigs and
music and rehearsing and all that
shit,” admits Grelle, who is now a
father of two. “And then at the end
of the day, it’s good to look at that
and say, ‘OK, this isn’t that big of a
fucking deal.’”
n

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

RIVERFRONT TIMES

43

WEDNESDAY NOVEMBER 7 9:45 PM
Urban Chestnut Presents

the voodoo players

tribute to the allman brothers
thursday november 8 9 pm

jason nelson trio

friday november 9 10 pm

seth walker

from new orleans
saturday november 10 10 pm

jakes leg

wednesday november 14 9:45 pm
Urban Chestnut Presents

the voodoo players

tribute to john hartford

44

RIVERFRONT TIMES

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

riverfronttimes.com

[VENUES]

Belleville
Theatre
Turns to Live
Music
Written by

THOMAS CRONE

T

he venerable Lincoln Theatre has been found at the
intersection of Main and High
streets in downtown Belleville
since 1921, holding down
its corner since vaudeville was a
form of nightly entertainment. It’s
weathered every type of attack on
the role of cinema in our culture.
Even during major periods of internal renovation, it never closed,
not once, and it’s chugging toward
a century of continuous operation having beaten back the forces
of television, cable, home video,
multi-plexes, video streaming and
the conversion from film to digital presentation. It’s a time-tested
landmark, the Lincoln, but even at
97, it’s not done reinventing itself
for a modern audience.
For twenty of its years, Richard
Wright owned the handsome,
multi-story brick building, operating the business from 1980 to
2000. A decision he made early
in that tenure proved a wise one.
As other single-screen theaters
were splitting into dual- or triplex moviehouses, dividing their
main house into multiple rooms,
Wright went the opposite direction. The main floor of the Lincoln still contains 550 seats atop
its sloped floor; the massive Cinemascope screen that once all
but obscured the proscenium was
removed. It was the balcony, instead, that was converted in 1982
into two 140-seat houses, allowing
for three screens and a stage that
reflected the feeling of the Lincoln’s earliest days.
And if you were to follow the
bouncing ball, Wright’s decisions
in 1982 allowed his family to rethink the space as a part-time
music venue in 2018 and beyond.
Wright’s daughter Sandy Schoenborn and her husband Dave are
the owners today; she grew up in
the theater and is helping shepherd in live music today.
Earlier this year, Old Salt Union
filled the main house and, more

The Lincoln Theatre originally booked vaudeville acts, then turned to movies. | THOMAS CRONE
recently, KSHE staple Edgar Winter made an appearance just prior
to Halloween, performing his seasonally appropriate instrumental
hit “Frankenstein.”
While classic rock might be a
hook, it won’t be the only one, the
owners suggest.
“We’re looking at a lot of different genres of music,” says Dave
Schoenborn. “Maybe even comedy, if we do it right and it’s an occasional thing. A really good comedy
show once or twice a year could
pack in a good house. We’ve done
some live events in the past, and
we’ll be producing them with a
professional production company;
this should be an awesome room
for production. And we can also do
local artists, who might not need as
much production compared to national touring acts. It’ll be nice to
be known for live entertainment,
movies, concerts.”
The Schoenborns are quick to
credit Wright for keeping one main
hall intact. In doing so, he allowed
for a classic, big-room moviehouse
to exist inside the Lincoln, even
as contemporaries were competing with new suburban theaters
with more screens, arcades and
lounges. Sometimes, the formula
worked; other times, not.
“Because he did that, it’s allowed
us to venture into these other areas,” Dave Schoenborn says of his
father-in-law. “A lot of other buildings of that time were repurposed
or took their stages out.”
Since 1921, of course, multiple changes have occured to the
space. Dave Schoenborn can maneuver through every square inch
of it, pointing out where a wall
once stood or a ticket booth exist-

ed. Even the old air-conditioning
system, which ran until 2004, has
a story: It’s being considered for a
union museum, he says, “since it
was union built and union maintained all those years. It ran like
a top.” Everything in the Lincoln’s
basement, it seems, has a story,
with Dave Schoenborn an able
storyteller.
That basement arguably calls
back the olden days most vividly.
To stand in that space is to feel
history emanating off the walls.
Getting down there, you scramble down a short, steep flight of
metal steps. At the bottom, you’re
greeted by a wall of thin, recessed
dressing rooms. In these rooms,
troupes of vaudeville performers once prepped for shows, with
short films silently screening between their performances. With
live music coming back to the
Lincoln, these narrow spaces are
being cleaned up for a new generation of performers, who’ll once
again be climbing the stairwell
straight up to stage left.
With winter coming, the Schoenborns attacked a basement filled
with, well, stuff. Sandy Schoenborn notes that her dad was a
“pack rat” ... OK, he was maybe, at
times, at a borderline “hoarder”
level. His addition of a pipe organ
in 1996 meant that even more stuff
from the pipe-organ subculture
was coming through the doors,
with heavy, metal bits and bobs
scattered all through the basement. Along with friend/music
booker Stan Sirtak, the theater’s
owners have been attempting to
recreate a bit of early-twentiethcentury spark in that space even
as they clean out the clutter.

riverfronttimes.com

Of course, the subterranean
spaces of the Lincoln won’t be
seen by many other than the theater’s staff of a dozen, plus the
occasional performer or sound
tech. Another addition that came
with the return of live entertainment, though, will be enjoyed by
the wider audience upstairs: The
Lincoln has been granted a liquor
license, and Dave Schoenborn has
already figured out how the lobby
can be adapted to accommodate a
pair of satellite bars.
As long as KSHE is broadcasting,
of course, the greater St. Louis region is going to need rooms for the
rock acts of yore. For years, the
Wildwood Springs Lodge in Steelville has been serving up intimate
classic rock shows. Touring acts
regularly dot the calendar of the
Wildey Theatre in Edwardsville.
And rooms closer to the city center, like Pop’s, field the odd classic
rock show, too, creating real competition among talent bookers.
Asked about having a wish list
for the Lincoln, Sirtak is quick to
say “yes.” But he’s equally quick to
note that until contracts are signed,
he’d best keep that list close to the
vest. Already, some of his leads
have come up empty, acts booked
at other venues after initally showing interest.
“We’ll have a calendar of concerts out [shortly],” Dave Schoenborn says. “We’re moving into the
winter season, when the movie
season slows down.”
The Lincoln is back in competition again. This time not against
laser discs or stadium seating, but
against music venues. Which the
Lincoln Theatre seems to be once
more, all these years later.
n

Saint Louis Symphony principal
horn Roger Kaza joins the
Philharmonic as soloist in a
program of enciting musical
storytelling. KMOX radio
personality Charles
Brennan is narrator.

Sibelius:

Karelia Suite,
Op.11

Haydn:

Horn Concerto
No.1 in D, Hob.
Vlld:3

Dukas:

Villanelle for Horn
and Orchestra.
Roger Kaza,
French horn soloist

Vaughan
Williams:

Fantasia on a
Theme of Thomas
Tallis

Prokofiev:

Peter and the Wolf,
Op. 67 Charles
Brennan, narrator
FOR TICKETS OR INFORMATION

(314) 421-3600

www.stlphilharmonic.org
46

RIVERFRONT TIMES

[COMEDY]

Flyover
Comedy Fest
Returns to
the Grove
Written by

THOMAS CRONE

T

here are times, Zach Gzehoviak admits, when he and his
Flyover Comedy Festival cohorts think ahead. With performers booked for the second annual event this weekend,
with venues set, with the basic
mechanics finalized, there’s only
the small matter of waiting for
the weekend to pass in winning
fashion before the whole process
begins again. So to discuss “what’s
next…,” well, it’s a natural part of
the process.
“Year three has come up between organizers and members of
the board, like Rafe Williams and
Emily Hickner,” Gzehoviak, the
festival’s co-founder, says. “We
toss out ‘next year’ all the time.
And that’s what we hope happens,
of course. We’re feeling confident
about this year, where we are financially and the shows. We think
about plans for next year and all
have thoughts on acts.”
The festival has its eye on the
bigger picture.
“Years four and five haven’t
come up,” he says. “But we did go
into this longevity in mind and
as something that we can grow
in the Grove. There are multiple
goals. We want to get some industry folks to these events, to provide opportunities for local comics. For traveling comics, we want
to give them one more reason to
come through here and perform,
give them a few ten-minute sets in
front of people who might be good
contacts.”
And, of course, there’s the
matter of giving St. Louis fans a
chance to catch local, regional
and national acts in one central
location.
While this year’s festival remains in the Grove, there are
mild variations from 2017. The
side room at Gezellig, in action
last year, has become a pizza parlor and so is out of the venue mix.
In lieu of it is the Monocle. The
Improv Shop predictably, with

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

riverfronttimes.com

Cameron Esposito is just one of the artists performing at this year’s fest. | VIA ROGERS AND COWAN
its two stages built for the art of
comedy, is the festival’s centerpiece. Unless you want to tag the
Ready Room that way, as the club
will host three nights of headlined
comedy this year, up from one
such show last year. And Handlebar will host open mics.
The mix of venues, Gzehoviak
believes, will provide those who
buy weekend-long wristbands a
chance to see multiple forms of
comedy, only one parking spot
needed. Thirty-plus events are
scheduled across three days.
“So many festivals out there
do all standup,” he says. Flyover
adds “some variety shows, some
podcasts. We’re offering improv,
sketch shows. That gives people
a reason to go to more than one
show a night. From producing
shows, we know that people can
tap out after 75 minutes of standup. This allows them an opportunity to go to a show, grab a drink
somewhere else in the Grove,
then hit up another show that’s
completely different later that
night. There’s something cool in
that. And there are even things
like karaoke planned for Friday
night at the Ready Room, which’ll
be a fun thing to attend, a party.”
With the Ready Room now a
full-time festival venue, organizers were able to increase the talent level across all the rooms, adding headlining standup talents in
Cameron Esposito, Janelle James,
Shane Torres, Ben Kronberg and
JC Coccoli, as well as noted groups
the Improvised Shakespeare Co.
and Matt Damon Improv. Gzehoviak and his co-founders — Brady
McAninch and Kris Wernowsky,

the latter a former contributor to
the RFT — all have their own picks
for can’t-miss shows, including
the group efforts Late Late Breakfast, Arguments & Grievances and
Adult Spelling Bee.
“From a growth standpoint,”
Gzehoviak says, “we’ve invested a
lot more into talent this year. We’re
pretty excited from a talent standpoint level, and not just the Ready
Room, main headliner acts.”
Plenty of local standups are represented, including such standouts as Justin Luke, Angela Smith
and Libbie Higgins, plus one of
the city’s most unpredictable,
amusing sketch/variety shows, Fatal Bus Accident.
“Something I’ve definitely wanted since we started last year is to
be inclusive,” Gzehoviak says.
“There’s a good amount of St. Louis comics, in addition to the submissions performers. So much of
this is about highlighting the local
scene and providing a platform
for them.
“Last year,” he adds, “we were
surprised at the turnout. We
really were. I thought I might be
going up to comics from outta
town and saying, ‘Sorry this show
was kinda light, but thanks for
coming out.’ But every show was
full. At this point, wristband sales
are up over last year and individual tickets are on sale and we’ll
push the heck out of those. People
are more aware of the festival this
year and we hope they’ll be more
interested in going to one show, or
even the whole weekend.”
For tickets and more information,
visit flyovercomedyfest.com.

OUT EVERY NIGHT

47

[CRITIC’S PICK]

Cloud Nothings. | DANIEL TOPETE

Cloud Nothings
8 p.m. Wednesday, November 14. Old Rock
House, 1200 South Seventh Street. $15.
314-588-0505.
On its latest album, Last Building Burning,
Cloud Nothings attacks its punk-flecked
rock songs with an energy and intensity
so fervent that you’d think the band was
releasing its first album instead of its
fifth. It’s something to marvel at: Hasn’t
the band been pummeled by ennui just
like the rest of us? But what started as a

one-man project for Dylan Baldi quickly
coalesced into a band that could spin off
catchy indie-rock jams and, increasingly,
sharp-elbowed excoriations that would
feel like dirges if they weren’t flinging volume, speed and vitriol at 100 miles per
hour. Catch this iteration of Cloud Nothings before Baldi takes another detour;
this is the band at its most forceful.
Temp Job: Temporal Marauder, the local fractured-pop duo of Joe Raglani and
Erica Sparks, opens the shows.
—Christian Schaeffer

Memphis-born, Kansas City Art Institute-educated Ellen Fullman reaches beyond the mantle of performer
— but just how far? We reckon 90
feet, the approximate length of her
signature Long String Instrument.
Played with rosin-coated fingers,
this device is a large-scale installation that explores the sonic qualities
of the space that it fills. (As Fullman
once explained, “My whole body is
a finger moving along a fretboard.”)
While Fullman has recorded her
work, namely on 1985’s The Long
String Instrument, seeing and hearing her perform live is an entirely
different experience. Presented by
New Music Circle, the event at 560
Music Center continues the organization’s 60th year, which has already featured Anthony Braxton and
Joe McPhee. A show from Lonnie
Holley is still to come.

Keith Sweat & Blackstreet

7 p.m. Chaifetz Arena, 1 South Compton Avenue.
$45-$75. 314-977-5000.

A forefather of modern R&B and a
legend in his own right, Keith Sweat
continues to pump out new music
while retaining the timeless sound
he established in the ’80s. Released just weeks ago, Playing For
Keeps is a rather fast follow-up to
2016’s Dress to Impress, a record
that still feels fresh from the oven.
Sweat’s constant and consistent
output shows an artist still in his
prime.

While Venture Café fundraiser Kinesis is an exclusive event — an
invite-only dinner with an awards
ceremony — the after-party is a public and much more raucous affair.
Montreal native Alexis Langevin-Tétrault headlines the full-on sensory
overload with a string-based installation and a light show that reacts to
its sound. Pamela Z and Head Dress
each offer their own explorations of
electro-acoustic music, while Matt
Hope, Disnovation, #NewPalmyra,
Evan T. & Stacy Smith and Ian Patrick Cunningham offer an immerContinued on pg 49

48

RIVERFRONT TIMES

SUNDAY 11

The Skatalites. | VIA SIMON SAYS BOOKING

The Skatalites
8 p.m. Saturday, November 10. Delmar
Hall, 6133 Delmar Boulevard. All ages:
$20 advance, $25 day of. 314-726-6161.
You think EDM has too many genres to
comprehend? Try wrapping your body
around the world of Jamaican music,
with its mento, rock steady, dub, two
tone and, of course, ska, the original and
toughest of all island dance styles. One
of the foundational bands of ska, the
Skatalites, is still churning out the deceptively complex yet always elementally syncopated sound. The Skatalites’ original
recordings, cut in one blistering fourteen-

month stretch from 1964 to 1965, make
up the Rosetta Stone to all the varieties
of reggae (and more) to follow. The music of the Clash, the Police and even No
Doubt would not exist without this band.
Much of the original lineup has passed
on, but the Skatalites still know how to
school a packed and sweaty dance hall.
Study up and get ready to skank.
Moveable Fest: Along with the formidable headliners, this year’s St. Louis
Skafest also includes major movers the
Murder City Players, Boomtown United
and Brick City Sound System, which kicks
off the festival at 7 p.m. as doors open.
—Roy Kasten

sive art-tech exhibit. The night is also
a ribbon-cutting of sorts for Innovation
Hall STL, a new workspace and programming hub.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 10
Buildings w/ the Conformists,
Maximum Effort

9 p.m. Schlafly Tap Room, 2100 Locust Street. Free.
314-241-2337.

Buildings’ gut-wrenching guitar howls
atop bass lines that carry its dissonant
rip. The vocals here are half-sung, halfspoken from behind gritted teeth, and
they offer a tense undercurrent that
ultimately results in an aggressive release. While each song differs in terms
of tempo, timing and dynamics, this
crew from Oshkosh, Wisconsin, rarely
veers off the noise-rock path paved by
aluminum guitars. The vibe is fierce,
but it never feels overbearing or too
performative. Sure, the bass drum fires
off like an old, untended cannon, but it

Only days removed from the release of
Electric Power, the Reputations should
be at the top of the AM pop game. The
Austin-based neo-soul collective feels
plucked out of ’60s and dropped into
2018 — perfect for Foam’s cozy club
vibe. St. Louis’ Mammoth Piano provides a bold foil with its own noisy
collision of blues and funk. It’s an
underrated fusion that feels like it
was founded on the banks of the Mississippi, beached and thirsty for Stag
and/or PBR.
—Joseph Hess
Each week we bring you our picks for the
best concerts of the weekend. To submit your
show for consideration, visit riverfronttimes.
com/stlouis/Events/AddEvent. All events
subject to change; check with the venue for
the most up-to-date information.

SAVAGE LOVE
WHAT AIN’T BROKE
BY DAN SAVAGE
Hey, Dan: I’ve been spending a lot
of time lately thinking about myself
and my sexuality and my romantic self. I can log on and easily find
someone to fuck. I’m a bear-built
top guy. There are ladies in my life
who choose to share their beds with
me. I can find subs to tie up and
torture. (I’m kinky and bi.) What
I can’t find is a long-term partner.
The problem is that after I fuck/
sleep with/torture someone, my
brain stops seeing them as sexual
and moves them into the friend category. I have friends who I used to
fuck regularly and now it’s a chore
to get it up for them. Sure, the sex
still feels good, but it’s not passionate. And when it’s all said and done,
they’re still in the “friend” category
in my brain. Some of them have suggested being more, but I’ve recoiled.
There’s nothing wrong with them,
but they’re friends, not potential
partners. I’m 32, and my siblings
are married and having kids, and
the people I grew up with are married and having kids. And here I am
not able to find a long-term significant other. Am I broken? Should I
just accept that, at least for me, sexual partners and domestic/romantic partners will always be separate
categories?
Always Alone
What if you’re not like most everyone else? What if this is just
how your sexuality works? What
if you’re wired — emotionally, romantically, sexually — for intense
but brief sexual connections that
blossom into wonderful friendships? And what if you’ve been
tricked into thinking you’re broken because the kind of successful long-term relationships your
siblings and friends have are celebrated and the kind of successful
short-term relationships you have
are stigmatized?
If your siblings and friends want
to have the kinds of relationships
they’re having — and it’s possible
some do not — they will feel no
inner conflict about their choices
while simultaneously being showered with praise for their choices.
But what are they really doing?
They’re doing what they want,

they’re doing what makes them
happy, they’re doing what works
for them romantically, emotionally, and sexually. And what are you
doing? Maybe you’re doing what
you want, AA, maybe you’re doing
what could make you happy. So
why doesn’t it make you happy?
Maybe because you’ve been made
to feel broken by a culture that
holds up one relationship model
— the partnered and preferably
monogamous pair — and insists
that this model is the only healthy
and whole option, and that anyone who goes a different way,
fucks a different way, or relates a
different way is broken.
Now, it’s possible you are broken, of course, but anyone could
be broken. You could be broken,
I could be broken, your married
siblings and friends could be broken. (Regarding your siblings and
friends: Not everyone who marries and has kids wanted marriage
and kids. Some no doubt wanted
it, AA, but others succumbed to
what was expected of them.) But
here’s a suggestion for something
I want you to try, something that
might make you feel better because it could very well be true:
Try to accept that, for you, sexual
partners and domestic/romantic
partners might always be separate, and that doesn’t mean you’re
broken. If that self-acceptance
makes you feel whole, AA, then
you have your answer.
I might make a different suggestion if your brief-but-intense
sexual encounters left a lot of hurt
feelings in their wake. But that’s
not the case. You hook up with
someone a few times, you share
an intense sexual experience, and
you feel a brief romantic connection to them. And when those sexual and romantic feelings subside,
you’re not left with a string of bitter exes and enemies, but with a
large and growing circle of good
friends. Which leads me to believe
that even if you aren’t doing what
everyone else is doing, AA, you’re
clearly doing something right.
P.S. Another option if you do
want to get married someday: a
companionate marriage to one
of your most intimate friends —
someone like you, AA, who also
sees potential life partners and
potential sex partners as two distinct categories with no overlap
— and all the Grindr hookups and
BDSM sessions you like with one-

The only “problem”
here is that your
brother’s obsession
makes his dick hard
— and the problem
is yours, not his.
offs who become good friends.
Hey, Dan: I knew my little brother
had an odd fascination with rubber that would likely become sexual. He would steal rubber gloves
and hide them in his room, and
there was a huge meltdown when
our mother found a gas mask in
his room when he was twelve. My
brother is in his 30s now and has a
closet full of rubber “gear” that he
dresses in pretty much exclusively.
(When he’s not at work, he’s in rubber.) All of his friends are rubber
fetishists. When he travels, it’s only
to fetish events where he can wear
his rubber clothing publicly. He will
date only other rubber fetishists,
which seems to have severely limited his romantic prospects, and he
posts photos of himself in rubber
to his social media accounts. I read
your column and I understand that
kinks aren’t chosen and they can
be incorporated into a person’s sex
life in a healthy way. But my brother’s interest in rubber seems obsessive. Your thoughts?
Rubbered Up Baby Brother’s
Erotic Rut
If your brother were obsessed
with surfing or snowboarding
and built his life around chasing
waves or powder — and would
date only people who shared his
passion — you wouldn’t have written me. Same goes if he were obsessed with pro sports, as so many
straight men are, or Broadway
shows, as so many gay men are.
The only “problem” here is that
your brother’s obsession makes
his dick hard — and to be clear,
RUBBER, the problem is yours, not
his. An erotic obsession or passion
is just as legitimate as a nonerotic
one. And even if I thought your
brother had a problem — and I do
not — nothing I wrote here would
result in him liking his rubber
clothes, rubber buddies or rubber

riverfronttimes.com

53

fetish events any less.
Hey, Dan: I’m a 28-year-old
straight man married to a 26-yearold straight woman. My wife and
I were watching a video about sex
and the female orgasm, and they
were talking about how, unlike
men, women don’t have a refractory period after orgasm. We were
confused because we are almost
the complete opposite. I have never
experienced drowsiness, lessened
sensitivity or quickened loss of
erection after orgasm. My wife, on
the other hand, doesn’t even like
me kissing her bits after orgasm.
She says they feel tender and sore
afterward, and this feeling can last
for hours. Is this normal?
Newlywed’s Orgasms Rarely
Multiply
What you describe isn’t the norm,
NORM, but it’s your norm.
Most men temporarily lose interest in sex immediately after climaxing. It’s called the refractory period,
and it can last anywhere from 15
minutes (for teenagers) to 24 hours
(for old-timers). It’s a hormone
thing: After a guy comes, his pituitary gland pumps prolactin into
his bloodstream — and prolactin
blocks dopamine, the hormone that
makes a dude horny and keeps him
horny. But some men release very
little prolactin and consequently
have short refractory periods; a
handful of men have no refractory
period at all and are capable of
multiple orgasms. You don’t mention the ability to come again and
again, but you do sound exceptional in that you don’t lose your erection after you come. Your wife also
sounds exceptional, NORM, since
most orgasmic women are capable
of having multiple orgasms — but
most women ≠ all women. (I’ve always loved what groundbreaking
sex researcher Mary Jane Sherfey
wrote in 1966: “The more orgasms
she has, the more she can have —
for all intents and purposes, the human female is sexually insatiable.”
Emphasis hers.)
But again, NORM, there’s nothing wrong with either of you. It’s
just that your norm isn’t the norm
— and that’s only a problem if you
choose to regard it as one.
Listen to Dan’s podcast at
savagelovecast.com.
mail@savagelove.net
@fakedansavage on Twitter

NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

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NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

riverfronttimes.com

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NOVEMBER 7 - 13, 2018

RIVERFRONT TIMES

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Though tapas restaurants aren’t new
to St. Louis, the Spanish style of eating,
drinking and socializing retains all of its
charms. There’s no better place to get
a reminder of that than at BARcelona,
Clayton’s longtime popular tapas hotspot.
As the restaurant notes on its
website, “A tapa is a delicious morsel of
food that deﬁnes a lifestyle as well as a
culinary style. Tapas in Spain are almost
always accompanied by wine, but they are
as much about talking as they are about
eating and drinking. The wine is, perhaps,
the medium that holds the conversation,
the friends, and the food together. The
primary purpose of tapas is to talk to
friends, to share the gossip of the day.”
A great time of day to enjoy
conversation at the bright, colorful
BARcelona is during the happy hour slot of

4 to 6:30 p.m., when a variety of food and
drink specials are offered at the bar and on
the expansive front patio, one of Clayton’s
ﬁnest spots to imbibe and to people watch.
Specials include $2 calamari, sliders and
burgers, with half-off appetizers and $10
pitchers of sangria.
Speaking of drink offerings.
BARcelona offers a full bar, with a host of
international favorites. Its famed sangria
joins such fare as bellinis, mimosas,
caipirinhas and the self-titled house special
(yes, “the BARcelona”), made up of Stoli
Vanil, Midori Melon Liqueur, Chambord
and pineapple juice.
On Wednesday evening, live music
is a ﬁxture along with the restaurant’s
other attractions. Which include, we should
note, an easy-to-remember slate of hours:
11 a.m. to 11 p.m., seven days a week.